


Monopolize Me

by LemonSuccubus



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Harry, Dom Louis, Explicit material intended for mature audiences only., I will not be tagging or posting warnings., M/M, Read at your own risk., Sub Harry, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:27:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 60
Words: 215,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonSuccubus/pseuds/LemonSuccubus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry thought he could spend his simple life as a cow farmer, but Desmond had other plans.  When Desmond uses blackmail, for reasons unbeknownst to Harry, he finds himself lost in the giant city of New York as next in line to run his father's company... At least until he meets Louis.</p><p>Louis' sole purpose in life has been to make his business succeed.  Harry doesn't think that's an issue until he finds out Louis is CEO of a company much larger than Harry could ever imagine.</p><p>Louis struggles to balance his filthy business ways with an honest relationship with Harry while pushing his company to be the global leader. Between publicly humiliating Harry as his competitor during the day and dominating Harry as his lover behind closed doors; he might just monopolize Harry in the process.</p><p>Harry has to leave more than just past behind if he ever hopes to please both his father and Louis.  Finding himself in a forbidden love with extreme tastes pays out better than staying lost in New York.</p><p>BDSM: Bondage/Discipline * Dominance/Submission * Sadism/Masochism</p><p>Explicit material intended for mature audiences only.  Read at your own risk.  Warnings will not be posted.</p><p>UPDATES ARE USUALLY MONTHLY</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louistwinklinson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louistwinklinson/gifts).



  

~~~

Explicit material intended for mature audiences only.  Read at your own risk.

 **Warnings will not be posted**. If you have any concerns, feel free to leave a comment here or dm me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/lemonsuccubus) and I would be happy to answer any questions you have <3

This book is dedicated to my mentor, [LouisTwinklinson](https://www.wattpad.com/user/LouisTwinklinson) and [LowQualityLarry](https://www.wattpad.com/user/LowQualityLarry) for endless hours of consulting for this story.

Enjoy :)

-Dannie Ybarra (aka LemonSuccubus)

~~~

~~~

H

Harry is a grown ass man. 

That, however, does not mean he doesn't still live at home with his mom and step dad.  It also doesn't mean he wants to live alone either.  Sue him.

The mud is caked on the bottoms of his oldest pair of Tony Llama's and he never cleans them.  Unfortunately, it's detrimental when he's elbow deep in chicken shit and trying to maintain balance whilst bending down into the chicken coop since it rained recently and the dirt beneath him has turned to slippery mud. 

So in he falls, face first on top of Henrietta the Rhode Island Red.  She's not too pleased with the intrusion and squawks and pecks at the shoulder of Harry's flannel shirt.

"God damn Henri!  Fuck, fuck-" He bats her away and hits his head as he pulls himself out of the chicken coop to brush himself off and massage his assaulted shoulder.

The hens are normally very amicable and even tempered.  Harry loves his girls.  The only time he hates them is when they peck him once in a blue moon.  The sharp pain is the worst thing in the world, and the pinpointed sting drives him out of his mind.

Since the sun is setting, most of the hens are already nestled into their coop. 

"Night girls."  He says as he shuts the wire door, but doesn't lock it.

He walks by the pasture to check on all the cows one more time before heading in for the night.  Things look mostly well here, except that Douglas the Donkey has made his way into Carly the Cow's pen again, and Douglas pesters Carly all night if he doesn't separate the two.

He hops the fence in one easy motion and mud splatters all the way up his Wranglers and Carhartt as he lands.  Carly gives Harry a resigned look because she's about as sick of Douglas' shit as Harry is.

Harry walks over to give Carly a pat on the rump and grabs Douglas by the collar to escort him into his own section of the pasture.  "C'mon boy.  You know you're not allowed here at night."

Douglas fights, as per usual since he's a stubborn ass.  It ends in a tug of war like normal.  Harry used to be able to pick Douglas up when he was a baby donkey, but since he's more recently gained a shit ton of weight, Harry can't do much more than pull him by the collar.

Douglas doesn't move an inch, so Harry grits his teeth and gets behind him to push instead.  Douglas hates when Harry pushes him.  Harry knows this.  Douglas knows that Harry knows this.  So it's absolutely no surprise when Douglas bucks and kicks Harry square in the gut with his broad hoofs.

He rubs his stomach once, but he really did deserve that, so he mostly just lets the broad pain thrum against his abs.

"Oh my God, you ass."  Harry opens the gate and points to the other side of it.  "Get the fuck out of Carly's section or I'll sell you."

Douglas hangs his head and walks slowly passed Harry and onto the other side of the fence. 

Harry shuts the gate and locks them away from each other.  He walks over to pet Carly a few times.

"Sorry about that girl.  You really should just chase him off next time he comes after you."  Harry pats her on the neck.

She whips her tail once and then shifts her weight against Harry.  He didn't realize he was resting on his cow until he loses footing again and slips.  Carly then steps on his foot unknowingly and makes his ankle feel like it might snap from the pressure. 

Luckily the mud provides a slippery ground for Harry to wiggle his foot out from under Carly's large hoof. 

"If you wanna move, that'd be awesome too.  Or you can just make me do all the work."  He says, trying not to offend his heifer.

He works his foot out from under her and stands up again to pet her.  The steady pain spreads down his foot and up his shin a little ways.  He really can't be upset since she didn't mean anything by it.  After all, she was just trying to lean in closer to him.

He gives her a pat before heading in the run-down mobile home with chipped paint on every surface. 

Once in the door, he kicks off his muddy boots next to the pile of other boots he keeps in a pile there.  The static of the television makes him look over towards the living room which he's half-way in already.  His mom and step dad sit in the stained microfiber recliners they've owned since they got married 20 years ago on his fifth birthday.

"Everyone's put away for the night."  Harry announces and walks across the chipped linoleum flooring into the kitchen.

"If you're getting in the fridge, can you grab me a Dew?"  Richard asks.

"White Out or Code Red?"  Harry opens the fridge and sets a Voltage aside to open a new 12 pack for his step dad.

"Code Red.  And grab a Voltage for your mum."  Richard instructs. 

Harry didn't even have to be told really, because that's the only flavor of Mountain Dew his mom will ever drink for the rest of her life.  But Richard still tells him so like he hasn't been living with his mom for 25 years.  Like Harry doesn't know what he's doing.

Harry knows what the fuck he's doing.  Harry fucking remembers things.

He walks over to set the Code Red down on Richard's TV tray next to his frozen meal and sets the Voltage on his mom's. 

"Thanks hun."  Anne tells him without taking her eyes off Duck Dynasty.

"You're welcome."  Harry beams and leans in to kiss her head.

"Is that freak of nature coming over later?"  Richard pops his can of Mountain Dew open.

Harry walks back into the kitchen to put a slab of frozen beef against his shoulder where Henrietta struck him earlier.  "Yep.  Helping me with the cows in the morning too.  You got a problem with it?"  Harry eggs him on.

"Nope.  Just don't keep me up with your butt fucking tonight."  Richard takes a long slurp of his beverage.

"And if I do?"  Harry taunts.

Richard shrugs.  "Don't care much."

"Mom, you gonna care if I keep you up all night?"  Harry pulls his iced tea from the fridge and pops the cap off.

"Nope.  Do what you want honey."  She says robotically.

Harry throws his newly opened drink into the garbage can, making it shatter and splash iced tea back up onto his Carhartt.

Anne turns up the volume to the television.

Harry keeps the frozen meat against his shoulder and sulks into his bedroom.

~~~

L

Louis is a grown ass man.

He is CEO of the most successful technology company in the entire world: Metal Core.  Well, maybe he's a little ahead of himself with the superlatives, but he's pretty damn close to the best and won't stop until he has claim over said title.

He is on the top floor of Building 34 in his office that is as razor sharp as his Tommy Hilfiger suit.  He sits at his black parallelepiped desk with his ear buds in, watching as the guy on screen attempts to hog tie a boy's wrists and ankles together.  He sighs and mumbles as he exits from the video.

"What was that?"  Niall asks from the other side of the desk.

Louis yanks his ear buds out to assert Niall.  "I said they're doing it all wrong.  Fucking incompetent idiots.  I'll buy out the porn industry next just so I can be personally responsible for setting some god damned standards around the quality of excuses for videos they put out anymore."

"Simone is going to have your ass for watching porn at work again.  You know how he hates wiping your server."  Niall shifts in the backless zig-zag chair.

"Fucking sue me for doing what I want at my job."  Louis minimizes the window and opens his email up again to see 86 new messages, 23 of them marked as urgent.  All unread.

"I think Barry wouldn't be too fond of taking care of more legal messes.  The last domestic abuse fiasco from years ago just finally got buried and settled."  Niall pulls his ugly ass phone from his pocket.

"Why the fuck are my emails not taken care of?"  Louis demands like Niall will have the answers.  Probably because he usually does.

"Liam is at lunch.  Saw him on my way up."  Niall swipes across the screen of his phone.

"He's supposed to answer my fucking emails even when he's at lunch.  What part of that does he not understand?  He's been doing this for three months now."  Louis picks up his phone to dial Liam's cell.

"He's already on probation.  This is his third strike."  Niall points out.

Louis waits patiently for Liam to answer. 

When he does, it's mumbled and sounds like he's eating.  "Hullo?"

"You have one minute to be in my office."  Louis clips out then hangs up the phone and types out an email to HR.

"We'll need a new secretary soon then.  With the new CEO at Roots, we can't risk your competitor having the upper hand for even a second."  Niall pokes at his Roots phone screen some more.

Louis' neck snaps up towards Niall.  "When the fuck did you think it would be pertinent to share this information with me?"

Niall brushes it off and types something out on his screen.  "I only found out at the luncheon today.  Desmond announced that his son will be taking his place."

"Put your god damned Roots phone away and talk to me."  Louis commands.

"God calm down.  That's all I know.  They're flying him in from Kentucky tomorrow so he'll be here for the industry mixer on Friday night.  They want him running the company independently by CES."  Niall pockets his phone.

"Why the fuck have I never heard of his Ivy League heir?"  Louis squints his eyes.  "Why the fuck is he living in Kentucky?"

Niall smiles slyly.  "He's not Ivy League.  He's a farmer."

Silence.

Then.

Louis' lips quirk into the rare smile that threatens to take over his face.

His door creaks open and Liam tip-toes in.  Louis' face falls in seconds, and Niall fixes his glasses before getting up and exiting the room.

Liam sits down gingerly and looks at his hands.

Louis stays silent and stares at him.

Liam chances a glance up at Louis' stone face.

"Do you know why I called you in here?"  Louis asks calmly.

"Because I was eating lunch?"  Liam quakes.

Louis blinks purposefully.  "Do you know what you're supposed to be doing during your paid lunches?"

"Working."  Liam whispers.

"Then riddle me this.  Why the fuck.  Weren't you working?"  Louis annunciates.

Liam doesn't say anything.

"Did I not make myself perfectly clear on your first day here what was expected of you?"  Louis motions to himself.  "Because if I didn't, please let me know."  He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"You did."  Liam says.

"Am I missing something?"  Louis asks condescendingly.  "Or are you just incompetent?"

"I'm incompetent."  Liam mumbles like the spineless waste of air he is.

"Tell me Liam.  Would you be very happy if you were running a 700.8-billion-dollar company and had an incompetent secretary?"  Louis asks rhetorically.

Liam doesn't even bother answer and just shakes his head.

"What would you do if you were me?"  Louis asks with a dramatic air of confusion and leans farther back into his chair.

Liam mumbles so softly that Louis can barely hear him.

"Sorry, speak up.  Didn't catch that."  Louis makes him say it louder.

"Fire me."  Liam repeats.

Louis knits his eyebrows together in mock sympathy and leans forward on his desk.  "Oh no.  I don't think I would fire you.  I _do_ think you would turn in an immediate resignation letter though.  I don't know, what do you think?"

Liam nods furiously, a tear of embarrassment running down his cheek.

Louis purses his lips together.  "That's what I thought.  Now I highly suggest you leave my office before I have to tell you to."

Liam stands up so quickly that he knocks the chair backwards and lets out a sob as he exits the room.

A grin creeps across Louis' face as he's left alone in the silence again.  He opens his web browser again because he's going to need to fix the straining in his pants before the board meeting at three.

~~~

H

Harry wakes up before the sun due to the opening of his piece of plywood that serves as his temporary bedroom door. 

"Wake up bastards.  The cows need to be milked before sunrise if we want them moved to the other pasture before noon."  Mona struts all of two steps to Harry's spring mattress where one of the coils has started poking through the corner and tears the wool quilt off of the two men.

"Fuck off Mona."  Grady grabs the quilt by the corner that once got chewed up by Harry's old cow dog, Rover.

Harry rolls over to shut off his alarm clock that's been hit on snooze for the last 20 minutes and ignores his two best friends' early morning banter.

"No can do.  I'm breaking horses all afternoon and won't be able to if we get done late."  Mona kicks the metal bedframe with her steel toed boots.

"Just have Harry start with you.  Give me another 20."  Grady groans.

"Harry won't move unless you do.  Don't act like you don't know it."  Mona chides.

"God, worthless."  Grady shoves Harry off the bed.  "Get up and get dressed then.  Just let me stretch."

Harry instantly jumps out of bed and pulls on a pair of plaid boxers before shimmying into his Wranglers and t-shirt.  "Morning Mona.  Thanks so much for coming."

"No problem.  'S what friends are for.  You really saved me last week with repairing the fences- it's the least I can do."  Mona leans against the hole in the wall where one of Grady's fists once punched in.

"Shut up bitch.  'S four in the fucking morning."  Grady throws his legs over the side of the bed and starts getting dressed.  "Harry, go get my coffee going."

Harry scrambles out of his bedroom, grabbing a pair of mismatching socks on the way, and stumbles into the kitchen to get a pot brewing. 

Mona joins him a second later, rolling her eyes.  "What the hell Harry?  I thought we talked about not letting him treat you like shit anymore?"

"It's fine!"  Harry snaps a little too loudly.  He shakes his head as he grabs the bag of coffee beans.  "Sorry.  I mean, it's fine.  It's how it's always been.  I don't mind it.  Coffee?"

"Already had some."  She pulls out a thermos from the cabinet.  "We've all been friends since elementary school.  I just don't like how he's treated you since his drunk father started beating on him.  He's not still doing the same to you is he?"

"Nope."  Harry's glad he got dressed quick enough for Mona not to notice the new bruise on his lower back.  He grabs his Ford bandanna from the table to tie his hair out of his face, showing off the innumerable bite marks on his neck.  "Never hurt me anyway."

Mona leans in a little closer.  "Maybe not physically.  But you've changed emotionally-"

"What the hell did I say about it being morning?"  Grady snaps.  "Where the fuck is my coffee?"

"Right here."  Harry grabs the thermos from Mona and pours Grady's drink into it, then shoves it in his hands.

"Mmm, thanks babe.  You always make my mornings better."  Grady gives Harry a pinch on the arm, and Harry positively beams.

They all pull their Carhartts on and head out to the barn.  Harry leads them in a quick detour to the chicken coop to let the girls out.

"Damn.  Looks like some coons got in."  Mona says as they approach the coop that has blood stains and feathers all over it.

"Did you forget to fucking lock it again?"  Grady asks like he couldn't care less.

"Yeah."  Harry responds, then opens up the walk-in door to assess the damage. 

Henrietta's massacred carcass lies in a pile of feathers and blood, her organs strewn across the coop to where another dead hen lies. 

Definitely coons.  Only two dead out of 15.  Not bad at all.  Must have just been one raccoon.

He picks up the corpses and steps out of the coop to toss them over the side of the hill for the vultures. 

"They deserved it."  Harry whispers as he watches more organs fall out and tumble down the hill.

When he gets back, Mona has already scooted the rest of the chickens into the outside pen and given them their breakfast.

"Jesus, you done being stupid?"  Grady asks Harry.  "Can't believe you forgot to lock it."

"I know.  I'm sorry."  Harry apologizes.

"Oh shut up Grady.  Let's go then."  Mona leads them into the barn where they wake up the cows and get to milking the dairy ones.

It's a long morning full of many hooves to the gut and belligerent donkeys, but they finally have the animals organized systematically so that the move to the other pasture will go smoothly.

Harry takes a break and runs into the house to make them sandwiches for breakfast and brings Grady's Copenhagen Long Cut because he always likes a chew after breakfast.  He takes an iced tea for himself, and grabs a White Out Mountain Dew for Mona.  They eat together in the barn, and Grady gratefully takes the tin of chew from Harry; and Mona thanking Harry for remembering her favorite flavor.

As if he would ever forget something like that.

"Thanks babe.  Always know what I like."  Grady takes a dip and puts it in his cheek.

"Damn straight."  Harry grins like he's just been handed a new Stetson hat.

Mona laughs at both of them, finishing off her can of pop and tossing it in the garbage bag that's nailed to the wall.

The afternoon goes smoothly, and the three of them successfully get the heifers separated from the dairy cows.  Douglas is, predictably, more difficult to move; but many hooves to Harry's hips later, he gets the guard donkey in with the heifers.

The three of them have their t-shirts off and tossed to the side, despite the cold late September weather, because numb skin is better than cold sweat that won't dry.  The noon sun is covered by an overcast sky by the time everything is done.

Mona hops onto Harry's back for a piggy back ride, adjusting the strap on her sports bra before letting her hair out of the ponytail it was fastened in. 

She tugs on Harry's curls.  "You need to let me braid your hair again."

Grady picks up all three of their shirts from the fence post and mumbles, "Gay."

Mona's about to chew Grady out, but Harry gives her a smack to her butt to shut her up.  She kicks the backs of his thighs in retaliation, and Harry ignores it, just happy that she's not causing a scene to Grady.

There's three large, black shapes that look an awful lot like fancy cars parked outside of Harry's mobile home. 

"Are those- what the fuck?"  Mona says, leaning more into Harry's back.

"The fuck Harry?  What did you to do get the FBI showing up at your porch step?"  Grady asks.

"Dunno."  Harry drops Mona off his back once they reach the AstroTurf patio. 

The springs on the tattered screen door protest as Harry holds it open for Grady and Mona.  Harry follows them in and squints when he sees his kitchen full of people, his step dad holding a shotgun and his mom holding a bat.

His eyes scan all the unfamiliar faces in suits and ties until- "Dad?"

Desmond steps forward to assess Harry.  "Harry."  He looks disapprovingly over at Grady and Mona who are still shirtless. 

"I should... go... I'll be late.  Text me later, yeah?"  Mona grabs her shirt from Grady and leaves.

"The hell are you doing here asshole?"  Grady steps between Harry and Desmond.

"I'm here to collect my son."  Desmond states.

"Like fuckin' hell you are.  Go back to bending over whores in your penthouse."  Grady spits a tobacco ball of saliva at Desmond's shiny, red shoes.

Harry hides behind Grady as Desmond stares the two of them down.

"Harry, pack your bags.  You're coming back to New York with me."  Desmond says.

"Why?"  Harry questions from behind Grady.

"Because I've had enough of you wasting your life trotting around in cow shit."  Desmond blinks boredly.

"And what if he likes trotting around in cow shit all day?"  Grady taunts.

"He doesn't have a choice."  Desmond says with a long sigh.

"Go with him boy."  Richard commands, keeping a tight grip on his shotgun.

"What's going on?"  Harry whispers, mostly to himself.

"Yeah, what the fuck is going on asshole?"  Grady folds his arms and puffs out his chest.

One of the men in the black suits tosses a file onto the kitchen table.  "Let me make this simple for everyone."  He flips through a couple pages until he gets to a certain one and starts reading it.  "'Anne Cox has hereby been charged with the felony of assault with a deadly weapon on this, the date, August 13, 2002 and been found guilty for the maiming of John Hicks-"

"What the fuck?!"  Grady yells for Harry.  "The fuck are you doing making up shit?  That's fucked up!"

"It's not calumny.  They are charges Anne asked me to dispense of so that she would not be incarcerated to federal prison.  The paperwork, of course, still exists; and I will not hesitate to release them to the judges if Harry does not cooperate and come with me."  Desmond lazily sticks his hands in his suit pant pockets.

Harry's eyes go wide and he looks over to his mother who looks remorseful.  "Mum?"

"I'm sorry honey.  I trusted him... I didn't think he would use it to blackmail us..."  Anne's lip quivers.

"You... that was you?"  Harry furrows his eyebrows together.  "He was beaten half to death with a bat!"

"The shit deserved it.  Cheating on your aunt like that."  Richard mumbles.

"She's my sister!  I wasn't going to let that bastard get away with it.  I did what she was too scared to do."  Anne sobs into Richard's shoulder.

Harry's body feels numb.  The tingling starts at his lips and fizzes to his extremities.  Like the telltale signs of becoming buzzed, but without the ease of mind.

"Our flight leaves at 4pm.  I suggest you start packing."  Desmond flits his hand in the air.

Harry walks in shock to move his makeshift plywood bedroom door to the side to look at his room.

"You're just gonna let him take you?!"  Grady yells at him.  "You ain't even gonna fight?"

"I can't win this one."  Harry pulls out a duffle bag since he doesn't own a suitcase.  Never needed one, seeing as he's never been on a plane.

"You can't just let him do that!"  Grady pulls at Harry's arm.

"I can't let my mum be incarcerated."  Harry whispers.

"You can't leave me behind!  You can't leave Harry.  You can't."  Grady tightens his grip on Harry's wrist.

"Grady, I can't stay..."  Harry mumbles.

"Yes, you _can_.  You are strong Harry.  You can stick up for yourself.  Don't let him take you!"  Grady pleads.

Harry turns away from him to throw some socks and boxers into his duffle.  After that are his nicest plaid flannels and tees, then his bandannas, boots, and toothbrush.  He puts on a fresh t-shirt and picks up his duffle bag.

"Please come back to me."  Grady says barely above a whisper.

Harry nods, emotionless.

Grady pushes the duffle bag off Harry's shoulder and pulls him into a tight hug.

Harry can't process it.  Can't process his lifetime best friend saying goodbye to him when he doesn't know when he'll be back.  Can't process the fact that he won't be able to say goodbye to Mona.  Can't process that his mother committed a felony and beat his uncle half to death.  Can't process that his father is ripping him away from his home.

Grady gives him a soft kiss to the lips- the second one they've ever shared- and Harry thinks he might break into a million tiny pieces.

He shuffles back out to the living room and is escorted into the backs of one of the black BMW's by himself.  He spends the almost two-hour ride watching the millions of trees pass him by.  He always felt so secluded here.  So protected and secretive.  Like it was only the trees that knew all of Harry's secrets.

By the time he boards the plane next to his father, the shock wears off and the sickness sets in.  It's too much, and Harry vomits into the white paper bag from the back pocket of the seat in front of him.

He locks himself in the bathroom to cry after that because he's never felt so abandoned and exposed.

~~~


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: So glad you guys are enjoying this so far :)

Dedicated to tyrantlover and faeriegirl143 <3

-Dannie

~~~

L

The strobe lights that turn on are what wakes Louis up from nearly falling asleep at Niall's party.  It's also what helps protect his anonymity at a place full of his competitors. 

So maybe Niall actually works at Roots, and not Metal Core.  Louis doesn't care much because Niall has been his best friend since high school.  He'll come to his shitty ass parties with strobe lights.

"Look alive mate!"  Niall appears out of thin air and pats him on the shoulder.  "I didn't rent out the club for you to fall asleep."

Louis loosens his tie from his neck with a horizontal tugging movement.  "Look Ni, I don't mean to leave you hanging, but it's Friday and I'm fucking exhausted.  I still have a stack of papers to go through when I get home."

"Wow, you've certainly become the life of the party."  Niall rolls his eyes in the ridiculous thick-framed glasses he's wearing.

"I'm 28 and have worked 80 hour weeks the last three years of my life.  Being the life of the party isn't something that particularly interests me anymore."  Louis says, leaning deeper into the sofa.

"Come on."  Niall grabs a glass of wine and shoves it in Louis' hand.  "I give you secret, VIP access to my company work party full of everyone important in the company, and you don't even have it in you to summon the motivation to do some conniving networking or confidential information stealing?"

"That's why I hired you, you rat.  So I could be done doing the dirty work myself."  Louis takes a swig of the white wine and pulls one of the throw pillows over his lap. 

"I knew you wanted me for something more than just companionship."  Niall nudges him, making some wine spill over the brim and onto the throw pillow that covers his lap.

Louis doesn't laugh.  He stares at Niall. 

"Well Jesus, if you're going to be a downer, don't let me keep you here.  I'm just saying, you made the effort to come, you may as well make the effort to have fun."  Niall takes Louis' wine glass to take a swig for himself.

"I've met half these people under false pretenses before.  I can't introduce myself twice."  Louis steals the glass back to take a drink.

"Then here..."  Niall takes the glasses off his face and shoves them onto Louis' face, "Now you're Clark Kent.  Or whoever.  Be who you want.  Go kiss some more asses and get information.  Or at least find someone decent to have a one-night stand with."

Louis takes the glasses off, folds them and puts them into Niall's suit pocket.  "Stop watching super hero movies and I'm not interested in one-night stands because they always want more than I can give them."

"Don't go prejudging people."  Niall grabs another glass of wine from the coffee table and drinks it in one go.  "Oh shit!  That reminds me- I need to tell you- I forgot to text you earlier, but-"

"Hey Niall."  A stranger with a strange accent comes into vision through the strobe lights sounding like he's having about as much fun as Louis.

Niall's jaw drops and he slaps Louis on the chest.  "This!  Louis, this is Harry.  Harry, this is Louis.  I was just talking to Louis about you because I wanted to introduce you-"

Niall is cut off by a girl falling into his lap and spilling red wine all over his white suit. 

"Niall, what the fuck?!"  Louis jumps up so that the drink doesn't touch him- unfortunately there is a small red splash on the sleeve of his white button up.  "God damn it!  Can you get any clumsier?  This is my best shirt.  Fuck.  Where the hell is the bathroom?"

Louis may not be able to get rid of the stain at this point, but he can at least keep it damp until he gets it to his dry cleaner. 

"I can show you!  I just came from there."  The stranger- Harry- perks up significantly.  The accent is obviously not New York, but a mix of Midwest and a tiny dash of Southern.

Louis rolls his eyes.  "Right then.  Lead the way."

He follows behind Harry.  Harry who has shoulder length curly hair, a basic navy blue button up that's not buttoned up- God, is he wearing _Van Husen_?- and showing off another dark shade of blue v-neck underneath it, and ill-fitting Dickies.  He stumbles over his loafers- which Louis saw coming from a mile away since he walks with feet more splayed and languid than the duckling Louis tried saving at the lake when he was eight years old.

Also his socks are ankle socks.

Louis visibly cringes.

Harry holds the bathroom door open and Louis actually walks right underneath his arm since Harry is quite a bit taller than him.

"Thank you."  Louis says to the abomination of fashion.

"You're welcome."  Harry follows Louis and stands next to him.

Louis ignores the odd proximity and expectant staring from Harry as he pulls the paper towel lever to expel several sections of the drying agent and runs it under water.  Louis flicks his eyes up in the mirror to Harry who is staring at his ass from next to him.

Louis wants to laugh.  "Are you admiring the Marc Jacobs or what's in them?"

Harry's eyes snap up to the mirror to meet Louis' comical face and blushes horrendously.  "Sorry.  I'm sorry.  'M not gay, I swear."

Louis does laugh at that. 

"I'm sorry."  Harry says quieter.  "I'll go then..."

"Where are you from Harry?"  Louis turns around, leaning against the sink and crossing his ankles, then presses the damp paper towel to the stain on his shirt.  "Are you a new intern at Roots?"

Harry shoves his too-large hands into the slack pockets.  "No.  I um, I just got here today.  I've never been to New York.  I uh, dunno know why I'm here to be honest.  It just kind of happened."

"I know the feeling."  Louis leans against the bathroom stall.  "I just kind of found myself here one day and haven't found it in me to leave since."

"Um.  Yeah."  Harry looks rather sad for having a simple conversation in a bathroom.

"So how do you know Niall?"  Louis decides on shucking his shirt off anyway since he's leaving soon.  It's not like there are paps around tonight.

Harry watches in ogling green-eyed wonderment as Louis pulls off his suit jacket, then unbuttons his shirt, showing off his perfectly toned torso and the small Mercedes-Benz tattoo on his sex line.

"I dunno..." Harry trails off unsurely, biting at his plush, pink lips, "Just met him today... he had to help me get some new clothes for tonight..."

Louis rolls his eyes.  That explains the God-awful fashion.  "Do everyone a favor and don't let him ever dress you again.  Also-" Louis hangs his garments over his arm and sways his hips as he walks up to Harry to start doing up the bottom buttons of his shirt, "don't ever go for the full unbuttoned look if you're going to wear something underneath.  It's terribly tacky and very high school; and in general, don't wear two shades so close to each other that they aren't easily distinguishable."

Harry blushes and looks down at his feet.  His feet that are wearing terrible off brand, two-toned loafers with tassels that look like they're from the 70's. 

Louis continues expertly doing up buttons as he continues to critique Harry.  "If you're going to go for loafers, keep them all black unless you're dressing for a 20's themed party.  You could maybe get away with red if you were gaudy enough."

"What else?"  Harry says barely above a whisper.

Louis buttons Harry's shirt to the top, then decides, no.  Harry will look better with the top two or three undone.  "Ankle socks are acceptable if you're okay as being labeled as a prehistoric Neanderthal.  It's 2015.  You don't show your ankles under suit pants unless you're trying to wreck the whole look.  Though- you'd need proper suit pants to wreck in the first place."

"Sorry."  Harry mumbles.

"Don't apologize to me."  Louis claps him on the shoulder, and Harry flinches.  That makes Louis raise his eyebrows and Harry fold his arms over his body in shame. 

Louis turns around to put his suit jacket on over his bare chest and speaks to the urinals instead of Harry.  "So the man you left behind, is he a closet boyfriend or homophobic fuck buddy?"

Harry gasps behind him and Louis fixes his cuffs while he waits for Harry's response.

"He... he... I'm not gay."  Harry stutters.

Louis turns around to give him a deadpan look.  "Do I look fucking blind to you?  Do I look unintelligent and unobservant?  Do you really think lying to me is a good idea?"

Harry shakes his head quickly.  Too quickly.

Louis' been ignoring the signs because he _really_ can't afford to let his hormones run his brain.  But with every acquiescent action of Harry, Louis' blood flows just a little bit faster and he can't help but think about how much he'd rather be blindfolding Harry, hanging him from his ceiling in a spreader bar, and making him suck his cock.

Louis should probably start going to the BDSM clubs again because anyone outside of there isn't prepared for what he gives in the bedroom and can't give outside of it.

Louis runs a hand through his hair and huffs before deciding he needs to leave any space where Harry exists. 

"Wait!  I'm sorry.  I'm really sorry."  Harry speaks up as Louis makes to exit.

Louis' palm flinches and he presses it to his thigh.  "You don't need to apologize to me.  I'm not your Daddy."

To other people, the statement would come off as terribly condescending.  Which, in most cases is what Louis aims for.  But in this particular instance, the meaning behind it is the kind that gets Louis' heart pumping faster, his head going spacy, and his cock growing larger.

Harry grabs his wrist though- _waiting_ for something.  Begging for something in his eyes.  "'M sorry for lying."  He tries again.

Louis is about ready to throw Harry up against the bathroom stall and smack his ass with his belt until there are bright red welts because Harry is practically pleading for it.  Pleading for a punishment that Louis has no right to give because he's known Harry all of- what?- 20 minutes? 

God, he needs to leave.

"Goodbye Harry."  Louis grips the door handle to yank it open. 

He ignores the way Harry looks like he might cry as he leaves him behind.

Louis makes his way home so quickly that he nearly comes when he throws his car into park in his parking garage.  It's empty anyway and Louis pulls his throbbing cock out of his pants.  It's sweaty curls and raw lips and big green eyes that he sees when he comes on himself three strokes later.

Louis pants as he lets his head fall back against the headrest in his driver's seat.

"Fuck."

~~~

H

Louis rushes out the bathroom door and Harry is in a panicked frenzy.  He locks himself in a stall and feels shameful.  Small and pitiful and desperate because he was nearly begging a perfect stranger to punish him and push him around.

A perfect stranger with scrutinizing, icy blue eyes and an attitude to match it that made him feel like he was back home in Kentucky with Grady who always made him feel safe and controlled.

Harry pulls down his slacks- he now knows they are _not_ proper suit pants- and they pool around his mismatching ankle socks and tacky, two-toned shoes and he's just so _ashamed_.  He knew he never belonged in New York in the first place and Louis made that perfectly clear at his chastising of Harry's ineptitude with style.

Harry palms at his cock, wishing Louis were here to tell him what he is doing wrong, punish him for it, then do it right for him.  He imagines Louis' hands nimbly buttoning up his shirt that is too close in color to his undershirt and tsking at Harry's bad form.

His cock throbs and throbs and Louis' disapproving eyes look right through him as Harry stutters through lies that he told Louis.  Lies that he deserved to be punished for. 

He imagines Louis scolding him for lying about being gay.  For lying about not leaving someone behind, because he did.  He was forced to- but he did- and now that Harry is in New York, he deserves Louis' belittlement to remind him just how much he doesn't belong here.

Harry deserves punishment for all of it.  Maybe Louis would hit him like Grady did.  Maybe he would pin him against the wall by his neck until he couldn't breathe.  Maybe he would call him worthless and faggot.

Harry stops trying to touch himself and crouches down to get his phone from his pant pocket and dials Grady as quickly as he can manage.

He holds his cock tightly against his chest while he waits for the ringing to stop and Grady's voice to sound through the speakers.

"Harry?  It's almost midnight."  Grady grumbles through the speakers.

"I'm sorry!"  Harry blurts out.  "I'm sorry for leaving and being a faggot and calling you so late at night!"

Grady stops for a beat until he catches on to the subtext of Harry's apologies.  "The fuck is wrong with you?  You can't even take care of yourself so you call me up?  You're so fucking pathetic Harry.  How fucking embarrassing."  Grady bites out.

Harry's hand moves around his cock that now has a drop of pre-come dripping from the tip.  "Yeah- I'm so sorry..."

"You'd fucking better be.  If I were there right now, I'd punch you so hard for being a worthless pussy."  Grady growls.

"I am!  Can I- I need to-" Harry clenches his eyes shut and works his cock faster.

"Yeah, hurry up and come so I can go back to sleep you inconsiderate faggot."  Grady says boredly.

Harry comes loud and hard into the toilet.  He tries to come down from it as quickly as possible so as to not inconvenience Grady further.  "Thank you... I'm so sorry."

"It's fine.  It's what friends are for."  Grady's voice goes imperceptibly softer.

Harry looks down at himself in clothes that are starchy and stiff and scratch his skin in all the wrong places.  "I miss you so much."

"You know you can't keep calling me like this Harry.  I ain't your boyfriend and I won't do anything long distance.  I ain't gay, and maybe your faggot ass will finally realize that now that you can't beg me into your bed every other night."  Grady says.

"I know.  I'm sorry, I'm sorry."  Harry pulls up his underwear quickly to cover his shame.

"I'll talk to you later okay?"  Grady says.

"Okay."  Harry closes his eyes, thinking that maybe if he doesn't look around, he won't remember just how alone he is.

The line goes dead and Harry flushes the toilet and wipes his hands off with toilet paper.  He probably deserves to be punished for being desperate enough to masturbate in a bathroom stall too.

He shuts the lid of the toilet to sit down and rest his forehead into his hands.  He feels so out of control here.  There's too much around him and not any one thing that he can focus in on- like a fox in a henhouse.  He'll only be able to succeed if he picks something to concentrate on and goes after it.  He'll set up a routine for himself.  A routine and goals.

It would just help if he knew what he was doing in New York in the first place.

~~~

L

Louis wrings his wrists as he sits at his desk. 

It's Saturday. 

So obviously, he's at work.

He made sure to bring in his small dumbbell weights in as well since his wrist strength has obviously deteriorated an embarrassing amount. 

After coming all over his suit jacket in his Mercedes-Benz yesterday, Louis paced his penthouse for two hours until well after midnight when he changed into his street attire and drove to his previously favorite BDSM club.

He scoured the club for a half hour waiting for someone who looks more like Harry to walk through the doors.  He waited and paced and finally settled for a twink that had been eying him since he walked in.

He slapped and paddled and flogged until his wrists were ready to give out on him.  Ready to give out because he just may be a bit out of shape.  The motions and movements came back as easily as riding a bike again, but his wrist strength wasn't quite as kind as his muscle memory.

The part that frustrated Louis _the most_ , though, was also the part he knew was inevitable. 

The fact that he just can't get in the right headspace because he doesn't have a bond or trust with his submissive.  Not true trust at least.

His last real submissive he let go over a year ago because- like all the others before him- they couldn't deal with the fact that Louis' first priority is his company that he runs.  After that, it was constantly searching the clubs for one-night-satiations, and they never came.  Quite frankly, it's a double edged sword and Louis is 100 percent sure he'll never find satisfaction with his sex life ever again.

So, thus he sits, sore wrists at work on a Saturday and looking out the giant window wall where the fucking Roots Inc. building blocks his view of Central Park.

There's a knock at the door though, and he knows it's time for the interviews for his new secretary to begin, so he pushes his sexual paradoxes aside and focuses on his job.

It's three hours later when he's found the perfect boy to be his secretary- Zayn- and schedules him to start on Monday.  That's when he notices the texts from his personal trainer and from Niall.

His personal trainer- Sasha- says that she'll be over an hour later tonight because someone just ran over her dog.  Louis would fire her, but he likes her too much, so he just sends a text back saying that he's only paying her half for today's session and that today needs to be a core or leg day.

Niall's text informs Louis that he is coming to the office.

That's when the door opens up and Louis sees Niall is making his way to the backless swivel chair on the other side of his desk.

"Didn't give me much of a heads up."  Louis pulls out a water bottle from his mini fridge and holds it to his wrists.

"I texted you two hours ago.  Plenty of warning.  You just didn't see it till now."  Niall rolls the chair forward more and kicks his feet up on Louis' black desk.

"What are you even doing here?  It's Saturday."  Louis leans back into his chair and crosses his legs.

"Could ask you the same thing."  Niall leans forward to pull back one of the balls of the Newton's Cradle that sits at the edge of his desk.  "Wanted to see if you got anything juicy on Harry.  I couldn't ever find you after you left for the bathroom." 

He releases the silver sphere and the soft clacking noises of the end balls fills the quiet room.

"That's because I left after almost creaming my pants in front of him.  He was nearly on his knees begging for me to dom him."  Louis' spine shivers at the memory.  "Went to the club after that and tried fucking it out to no avail- as usual."

Niall quickly pulls his feet from the desk and is looking at Louis like he's just spoken in Vietnamese.  "What the fuck?  Harry- you had Harry Styles gagging for your cock in a club toilet his first day in New York?"

"Wha-" Louis furrows his eyebrows, "Harry Styles.  _Styles?!_   Desmond's son?  The farmer from Kentucky?"  Louis stands up and slams his empty hand on the desk and winces at the impact on his wrist.

Niall's eyes are nearly bulging out of his sockets.  "Yes _Louis_!"  He hisses.  "Desmond's son, heir to Roots Inc. soon-to-be-CEO, Harry Styles you fucking dimwit!  Who the hell did you _think_ he was?"

Louis chucks his water bottle against the wall and it combusts, splattering liquid all over one of his murals.  "What the _fuck_ Niall?!  You didn't think to include that during our fucking introduction?"

"Don't get mad at me because you didn't ask the right questions while flirting with the man."  Niall scoffs.

"He said he didn't work for Roots!  I asked him that- he _said_ he didn't even know how he ended up there."  Louis fumes.

Niall rolls his eyes.  "He had no fucking clue what was coming to him.  Desmond went to personally pick him up from his mobile home yesterday with blackmail on his ex-wife if Harry didn't come quietly.  The second he got off the plane Desmond had me baby sit him and help him settle into his new penthouse then take him shopping for some clothing from the 21st Century.  The guy is quiet and awkward as hell..."

"God!"  Louis exclaims.  "When the fuck did you think it would be pertinent to share this information with me?"

"Oh calm down.  I only found out when Desmond dropped him off at my doorstep with his house key."  Niall puts his feet back up on Louis' desk.

Louis paces behind his desk for a minute.  "You are the worst double agent in all of history.  I have to wait almost 24 hours for a full report of the goings-on in my competition."

"What could have gone wrong anyway?"  Niall muses.  "So what if you dommed the shit out of him in the bathroom?  Hell, maybe you would have taken him to your place and tied him up in all the kinky contraptions you have there.  What would be different?"

"The _difference_ is that if we would have fucked, I could be facing _another_ damn law suit and black mail from my biggest competitor."  Louis points at Niall because he's a fucking idiot if he doesn't understand something as basic as that.

Niall waves his hand in the air.  "No, no.  I get that.  Except at least then we would have something to act on.  We would have our lawyers on it; we could incarcerate Harry's mom anyway and make him leave the business; we could get him to sign an NDA- God, _I_ shouldn't have to tell you all this.  You already know this-"

"Then _what_ is your point?"  Louis clips.

"My point is, we have a bigger problem now."  Niall brushes dust off his shirt.  "The problem is preventing you from acting.  You are a man of action.  There's a guy you want and you know right where to find him and how to get him.  What's stopping you?"

Oh.  Niall does have a point. 

Louis didn't get this far in business by not acting on opportunities.

"What's stopping me is the same thing that has stopped me from being with anyone else outside of clubs.  They always want obsessive relationships.  Even when I give it my all, it comes up short for them because I choose my business over them every time.  They get heartbroken; I get sad because I usually grow incredibly fond of them- it's a mess for everybody."  Louis says.

"I'm just saying.  You're going to be seeing a lot of him- particularly with the holidays coming up."  Niall swivels his bum back and forth in the chair, but keeps his feet stationary on the desk.  "Even as controlling and methodical as you are, I don't think you're strong enough to resist when a carrot is dangled in front of your face."

"I'm the epitome of all things control.  One redneck from butt-fucked Egypt isn't going to change that."  Louis clasps his hands on his desk.

"We'll see."  Niall hums.

~~~


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Dedicated to @Directioner101 :)

Thank you everyone for the comments, kudos, reads, and support so far!!

-Dannie

~~~

H

The weekends aren't weekends at all. Not that it's something unfamiliar to Harry. He's worked on a farm for 25 years. He knows that work never _really_ stops. Not when you need something to become a well-oiled machine.

He still wakes up before dawn each day- his woolen quilt being his choice of covers during the night- and each day he wakes up, he looks at the corner that Rover chewed up and wishes he had him here. Wishes he had anyone here because he's alone in the top of a condo high-rise that looks like something out of a reality television show.

First thing he would do when he woke up in Kentucky is feed the animals. Something to wake him up, get his blood flowing, and make his appetite start churning.

In New York, he doesn't have animals. So instead, he works out for an hour and a half while the sun starts to creep over the city.

That provides him the mercy of needing a reason to get clean, and he showers immediately afterward. He makes sure to shower as slowly as possible to waste more time. He plugs in his iPod to the stereo system and listens to at least four Jonny Cash songs.

Then it's drying his hair with the blow dryer in his drawer. He never used one in Kentucky because he never had a reason for it and definitely not the space. Here, though, he's been told he needs to make it look like he's put a small amount of effort in before going into public.

After that, it's breakfast and packing his lunch for the day.

By the time everything is done he usually has a half hour left to kill before his dad expects him to be somewhere. So that time is spent sitting in the parking garage in his truck on his phone, idly toggling through Facebook, which he doesn't care much about but lets him stay up to date on what his friends are doing.

His dad had his old, red Ford pickup driven up two days ago, and Harry's grateful he has a small space where it still smells and feels like Kentucky.

He's been in New York for a week now and he still doesn't know what he's doing here. He just knows his dad makes Harry shadow him at the office every single day from 8am till 8pm.

Every day, Harry makes sure to button his shirts up- leaving the top two or three undone- and wears his new knee-high socks and black loafers without tassels that he made Niall help him buy.

Every day when he gets dressed, he thinks of Louis.

It's been a week since Harry first met him, but he's haunted the better part of Harry's dreams all week.

Harry hasn't called Grady since that night in the bathroom stall, so Louis has been the one to preoccupy the better part of his fantasies as well. As much as he would and _could_ fantasize or even replay memories with Grady, Harry does, in fact, know exactly how each incident would go. Harry, obviously, never complained because Grady always gave Harry what he needed.

But Louis. Louis is an unknown wild card.

Harry pants and sweats imagining the things Louis could do to him and how he would do it. He wonders if he'd be good enough for Louis and _desperately_ wants to show him he could be. The fantasies get more and more drastic until Harry's talked himself into doing just about anything to impress and please Louis.

It's become a bit of an obsession because right now it's the unknown. And really, there's no one stopping his homoerotic imagination or making him feel bad.

It's been like a mental morph for him to not hear that he's a faggot from Grady all the time. It's like a sting that he didn't realize was there until it was taken away. There isn't anything suppressing Harry's thoughts now.

Unless, of course, Louis thinks he's a faggot too. Then Harry would stop thinking gay things to please him. Just like he did for Grady.

Grady truly has always been Harry's best friend. Grady is all Harry's ever known. It was elementary school when they met, middle school when Grady dared Harry to kiss him, and high school when the playful wrestling turned to something more rough. Something that left Harry with an obvious hard-on, and Grady with a lot of frustration that he took out on Harry. Took out on him because Grady wasn't gay, but Harry kept making him frustrated and he had to take it out _somehow_ , so why not hit Harry to punish him for being gay and make him feel dirty by touching his cock and calling him 'faggot'?

Harry's always felt he deserved it anyway. Anne or Richard never reprimanded him for being gay. _Someone_ had to.

Harry's grateful he had Grady for that.

But now Grady is states away and very obviously doesn't want to continue whatever it was they had going sexually. Harry knows in the back of his mind it's because any kind of long-distance relationship would mean Grady admitting to having more than just sexual frustration towards Harry. It would mean he _cared_ for Harry and that would be gay.

So instead, it's simple texts, because Grady is still one of Harry's best friends (along with Mona, of course), and Grady would still help Harry out if he truly needed it. Harry just knows when to ask and when not to.

Harry wonders if Louis would care for him.

He wonders and never gets answers; it's really frustrating because he _knows_ he lives in the same state as the man and has no clue if he'll ever see him again. He thinks it might be safer to keep Louis as the perfect Louis in his fantasies anyway.

He logically knows he could ask Niall. But for one, that would _mortify_ him. For two, what if Louis rejects him?

Harry could never live that down.

That's why he's made a vow to himself.

If he ever crosses Louis' path again, he'll get on his knees and suck the life out of his cock until Louis bends him over and punishes him until he realizes it's all he wants to do for the rest of his life.

Harry thinks it's a pretty fool proof plan. Either he'll get sent to jail for exhibitionism- which would be more than titillating- and feel the same as going into work with his dad every day anyway; _or_ he'll manage to secure Louis' reciprocation of sexual advances by pleasing or pissing him off.

"Harry! Are you listening, or do I have to repeat myself?" Desmond clips from behind his large, oak desk.

Harry looks down at the carpet where his black loafers without tassels blend in against the mocha carpet. "Sorry sir. Wasn't listening."

Desmond leans back in his large, red, leather chair. "What I'm about to tell you is important. I need your undivided attention."

Harry looks up at his father who seems to blend into the browns of the room too. The entire office reminds Harry of a wooden cabin in the forest somewhere. Harry dislikes it. It feels like there's too many places to hide and too many unstructured corners and curves and knotty wood, and God, there's a _moose head_ mounted to the wall next to the exposed wooden beams and fake foliage in one of the corners of the room.

"Sorry. 'M listening sir." Harry responds, trying to focus in on his father rather than the taxidermy's awkward placement on the wall.

"Harry, do you know why you're here? Why you've been shadowing me?" Desmond asks.

"No sir." Harry says honestly.

Desmond sighs, as if he were expecting that very answer from Harry. "I'm training you to run Roots Inc. I am sending in my official resignation the day before CES, which is when I expect you to run all the affairs in the company in place of me."

"What?" Harry wonders if his father is actually on a call with someone else and he just didn't see the flashing of his Bluetooth ear piece.

"You're taking my place. The company will be yours on January 5th." Desmond simplifies.

Harry looks around at the lodge-like office, searching for a response. "I don't want your company."

"Doesn't matter much what you want, son. It will be yours to destroy or be fruitful with either way." Desmond says.

"Why?" Harry feels eternally confused and out of place in his silly outfit in the leather chair.

Desmond pauses a beat, his voice going softer as he leans his weight forward on the desk to be closer to Harry. "Because you are capable of greater things than growing old in a mobile home farming community. I want you having the option for a better future. You have a 90-day grace period after January 5th and if you decide this is absolutely not what you want to do, I have other arrangements set up to take care of Roots."

Harry's palms are sweaty and he rubs them together to try drying them out. "I done nothing to deserve this. I- I don't even want it."

"You deserve only what you believe you are deserving of." Desmond leans back into his chair again. "And like I said, if you still hate it after 90 days of running Roots, you are free to go back to Kentucky- no harm will come to your mother and all incriminating evidence against her will be burned."

"It- it's not even halfway through October..." Harry says.

"So you have two and a half months to prepare for January 5th." Desmond says.

"And after that?" Harry bites at the inside of his cheek.

"After that you will run the company for 90 days, free of obligations and contracts. You will be expected to finish the 90-day period, then come March 26th, you will make a decision to stay on as CEO or go back to Kentucky." Desmond shuffles through some papers and pulls one to the top. "This is the contract you would sign on March 26th, you may look it over now if you'd like."

Harry shakes his head. It would do nothing to sway his decision anyway.

March 26th.

He only has to stay in New York until March 26th and then he can move back home.

"Until then, I expect you to be _fully engaged_ in all trainings, meetings, and agendas. Is that clear?" Desmond says more sternly.

Harry nods.

"Excellent. In that case, you now have bi-weekly personal appointments with Pablo, Lenny, and Cecelia. Pablo is to train you in public speaking, Lenny is your leadership coach, and Cecelia will educate you in celebrities, current events, and fashion." Desmond pushes a planner towards Harry.

Harry grabs the schedule like a lifeline and stares at where he has six appointments written in pen each week. His heart flutters.

"When is my first one?" He rushes out.

"Starts in 15 minutes as a matter of fact." A small smile spreads across Desmond's face.

Harry nods and reads over the ink that fills the 3-'o-clock time slot: **Lenny**

There's a knock at the door, and Niall enters in without waiting for an invite.

"Niall, have a seat." Desmond motions over to his distressed leather sofa against the wall.

"I'll only be a second Mr. Styles." Niall stands next to Harry and adjusts his thick, black-framed glasses. "Just wanted to ask about when you want me sending out the formal invitations to the industry mixer."

"Actually, send those out today please. We'll need an RSVP by next Tuesday so that we know which club to rent out. Metal Core's executive boards alone will bring in almost 50 people. Then remember, we want to reach out to some of the younger, sprouting indie tech companies as well." Desmond instructs.

"Will do sir." Niall taps away on his Roots tablet. "And is the budget still a go for our company Halloween party this weekend?"

Desmond waves his hand towards the door. "Talk to financial about that."

"Right." Niall taps one last thing on his tablet before looking up at Desmond fearlessly. "Also, annual bonuses are coming up. Instead of a bonus this year, may I have a raise?"

"Of course. Talk to financial about it. Have them call me if they have any questions- but they shouldn't, seeing as you've been my Personal Assistant for years now." Desmond says easily.

"Thank you sir." Niall gives him a smile and Harry watches him leave the room.

"I forgot about the company party this weekend. It's Roots only employees, but I actually want to ask Cecelia if she will be your escort for the event. You could use as much exposure in her expertise as quickly as possible." Desmond says.

Harry nods. "Can I go to my appointment with Lenny now? I wanna be early."

Desmond laughs lightly. "Of course. He's down one floor, first room on the left."

Harry stands from the chair and leaves. Outside of his dad's office is a new man being trained as a secretary at the computer. The only reason Harry knows this is because his dad told him so. Not that he remembers the guy's name. Only that he's new.

Harry wonders if he should try and befriend him. They're both new here after all.

Harry mashes the buttons on the elevator- not having felt this much excitement since meeting Louis last weekend. He wonders, with a jolt of adrenaline, if Louis will be at the company party this weekend.

The elevator door dings open and he stumbles out and into the first door on the left. An African-American man sits at a simple table in the middle of the room and looks at Harry over thin-rimmed glasses.

Harry fumbles to shut the door, then wipes his sweaty palms off on his pants. He walks over to the table, and Lenny stands up and holds out a hand to him.

Harry looks awkwardly at the hand, then reaches his own out to shake Lenny's limply. "Um. Hi. I'm Harry." Harry tries to break the awkward silence.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Harry. I'm Lenny. I will be your leadership mentor." Lenny says calmly.

Harry sits down because there's a chair there, and shoves his hands between his thighs. He doesn't say anything, waiting for Lenny to teach him something.

Lenny smiles and sits down after Harry, clasping his hands on the table. "Harry, can you tell me what you think it means to be a leader?"

"Um. I dunno. Someone that other people look up to and listen to I suppose." Harry chews on the inside of his cheek.

Lenny nods. "And if you were to imagine a leader in your mind, what do you see?"

Harry takes his bottom lip between his teeth while he thinks about it. He supposes his dad is a leader. "Someone who's rich probably. Someone who acts rich."

Lenny chuckles. "They do act rich sometimes, don't they?"

Harry shifts his eyes around the room at the bookshelves that are the only piece of furniture in the room, save for the desk. They are filled with books. He nods his head in what he assumes to be the correct response to Lenny's question.

"Harry." Lenny gets Harry's attention back with the direct use of his name. "I'm going to teach you to be a leader. In order to do that, I will teach you how to look, speak, act, walk, talk, and behave like a leader. If we want this to be a successful training course, I need you to be willing to give it your all. Everything that your teaching encompasses will require you to leave your comfort zone. Are you prepared for that?"

"Eherm, yeah?" Harry doesn't really know what that even means, but he's willing to give it his best shot.

"Perfect." Lenny smiles. "Let's start this meeting over then, shall we? Your first lesson starts now."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "Okay?"

Lenny points to the door. "I want you to go back into the elevator and imagine yourself walking confidently into my room. I want you to imagine yourself taking the steps through the door, closing the door, then walking straight to me. After you've imagined it, do it.

"Keep your head up, chest out, eye contact, and I want you walking as if your feet are aligned on two parallel two by fours. Once you approach me, hold your hand out- assuming with full confidence that I will return the gesture- and give me a firm handshake with a smile. After that, you will wait for me to invite you to sit down, then keep your hands where they are visible to me; all the while looking like you are as comfortable here as you are in your own home.

"We will not move on to the next lesson until you can master these steps." Lenny states.

Harry nods swiftly.

Lenny gives him a comfortable smile. "I believe in you. Now show me what you've got."

Harry nearly trips over himself standing up and going back into the elevator.

It takes him the entire lesson to master 'the walk' to Lenny's satisfaction. Harry is horribly disappointed in himself, despite the praise and encouragement from Lenny. At the end of the hour, Lenny sends him with a Dale Carnegie book and instructions to read the first two chapters between now and their next lesson.

Harry thinks he'll probably read the entire book tonight as punishment to himself. He did terribly at today's lesson and wishes Lenny would yell at him for his stupidity.

~~~

L

"You're fired, you ruthless bitch!" Louis yells as his arms burn.

"Work through it! You have five more reps!" Sasha gets down on her knees to slam the ground next to Louis. "C'mon! Five more you lazy bastard!"

"Fuck you!" Louis grits his teeth as he lowers into another push up.

"Maybe I'd let you if you weren't such a lazy, half-assing, pussy!" Sasha yells in his ear.

Louis pushes himself up and down the required amount more and then collapses onto his gym floor. "I fucking hate you. I. Fucking. Hate you." Louis pants.

"Tell it to someone who cares." Sasha hauls herself back up to her feet and turns off Bullet For My Valentine that's been blasting through the speakers. "Good work today! You've met all your fitness goals two months early. That doesn't exempt you from cooling down though, otherwise the work out is basically useless."

"Useless like you." Louis sweats onto the wooden floor.

"Wow." Sasha hums. "How weak. Your comebacks are weaker than you are."

"God, you're the worst." Louis heaves himself off the floor to stand and watch himself in the mirror as he stretches. His veins and muscles are bulging out of his skin- accentuated by the thick layer of sweat that coats every inch of his body. His normally stiff-quiffed hair is completely matted to his face, making him look something close to a mangy dog. When he lifts his arms up, his spandex tank rides up ever so slightly that his Mercedes-Benz tattoo shows.

He pulls his gym shorts up just a little higher to hide it from Sasha.

"If I were the worst, I'd have been fired long ago." She claps him on the shoulder.

"I hate working out." Louis moans.

"But you love the results." Sasha points out.

"So now that I've met my goals, does that mean I don't have to work out until I get pudgy again?" Louis asks hopefully.

"Don't be daft. Now that you've finally reached your ideal image, you have to maintain it." Sasha tosses a water bottle to Louis.

"Can I at least stop the diet then? It's the Halloween season." Louis uncaps the water and drinks half of it in one go.

"Sure. Start re-introducing some old foods back into your diet slowly and see how your body handles it. As long as we stay on top of your work-outs, you shouldn't notice too drastic of a difference." Sasha says.

"Thank God." Louis grabs his rag to wipe the sweat off his forehead. "I'm showering now. Feel free to see yourself out. I'll have the money direct deposited to you as normal."

"Thanks! Have a good evening then." Sasha picks up her duffle bag like it doesn't weigh over 50 pounds and makes for the exit of Louis' in-house gym.

"Unless- do you want to grab a drink with me?" Louis offers. "As celebration? I'll buy."

"No thanks." Sasha declines easily. "My husband and I are taking my brother and sister-in-law out for their baby shower. It's their third girl!"

Louis smiles void of emotion. "Oh, well congratulations to them! Have a great evening then."

"Will do. See you in a few days then." Sasha leaves from the gym and Louis is alone.

He's alone because everyone else has time for family and relationships and he does not.

So he blasts Asking Alexandria to drown out the silence while he showers, and then works at his in-home office until he falls asleep face-first on the keyboard.

The silence is what wakes him.

He sits straight up, sweating from another fucking dream about Harry Styles.

"You alright Lou?" Niall flips a light switch on and Louis snaps his head in his direction.

"When did you get here?" Louis croaks, voice still laced with sleep.

"Just barely. You could hear your music from two levels down by the way. I don't know how you can sleep through that- shit, I don't know how you're not deaf, honestly." Niall walks back over to Louis' desk and sits in the bean bag that's nearby. The bean bag that's specifically for Niall because he 'wanted to sit on something without fear of falling and slicing his head open on it.'

"My hearing is great, thank you much." Louis bites.

Niall sighs. "It's midnight on a Friday night."

Louis rolls his eyes because he knows what comes next. "And _yes_ I'm still working because I love working; and no I will not reorganize my priorities or renew my Netflix subscription; and no I will not stop until I become the world's most successful tech company in the world. That means working around the clock until we are as innovative as Roots and as customer friendly as the indie companies."

"All I'm saying is there's an in-company Halloween party at Roots tomorrow night _inside_ their headquarters. I could sneak you in easily if you had a good costume." Niall scoots further into the bean bag.

"What did I just say?! I don't have _time_ for Halloween parties. Last Friday night when I went to that stupid informal get together I wasted a great deal of time. Plus, the fucking industry mixer party is _next_ Saturday, and I really don't understand why American society finds it _so_ essential to have parties every fucking weekend of a holiday month." Louis seethes.

"You used to love parties." Niall reaches into the mini fridge that's stocked with nothing but water bottles.

Louis _used_ to not care so much about surrounding himself with other happy people and their happy lives full of happy relationships. But now it's a little like ice straight from the icebox that burns a burnt wound only farther. So he works harder and longer because it's the only thing that can give him the results that he wants.

"I used to be lazy." Louis says.

"You also used to have more fun." Niall throws the bottle cap at Louis' face.

Louis runs a hand through his now dry fringe that falls down and covers one of his eyes. "You're an ass." Louis only says half-heartedly.

"Harry's going to be there." Niall says carefully.

They haven't talked about Harry since last Saturday when Louis discovered who exactly Harry was. Niall hasn't tried to bring it up again, and Louis hasn't said a word about it.

Louis is very, very sure to keep his face stoic and not act like his heartrate has increased. "I assumed as much, seeing as he is being trained to become CEO at the company. It's not an easily forgettable piece of information since Roots is actually my own company's biggest competitor and I obviously take great measures to make sure I have the latest intel on personnel running the damn thing. I might suffer from overworking myself, but memory loss is not something I'm worried about."

"You know you start rambling shit when you get unsure of yourself?" Niall's lips quirk up into a smile. "Also, for as invested into secret information as you are, you've asked absolutely nothing about Harry Styles."

Louis doesn't move. Doesn't let his nerves show through. "I already know the dirt on him. I know his greatest strengths and myriad of weaknesses. There's no reason for me to ask anything about him. I already have been working on company changes so we can capitalize on the points where Harry will fail terribly with his company."

Niall raises his eyebrows. "Great. Tell me more about that."

Louis crosses his legs and shoves one of his recently printed papers into Niall's hands. "Flashy innovation. Roots has always had the industry lead on innovation, but we've always marketed it better. Roots might have the opportunity of the grand unveiling of new products, but we've always come up a month behind them with our own products that are sleeker, less glitchy, and a more perfected version of their products. This time- we will be the innovators. There's nothing inventive about Harry Styles. There's nothing he's capable of creating that we can't do first and do better."

"So we launch new products?" Niall asks boredly.

"It's not _just_ about the new products." Louis snatches the papers back from him. "It's doing it _better_. A better unveiling. I already have more public relation skills than Harry could ever hope to gain in his entire lifetime, and I'll personally do press releases and product unveilings now instead of having the engineering team do it. I'll become the face of the company. If Roots has any hope of keeping up, they'll know to do the same with Harry. It will become me verses him in the public's eye. It will be made personal and I'll win every time."

Niall purses his lips like Louis may have finally said something worthwhile to him. "You know that will only work until Harry gets trained. Desmond has him meeting with three different people to help with his various P.R. shortcomings."

"You can put a cow in an Armani suit, teach it to walk on its hind legs, and give it a bath, but at the end of the day it's still a cow." Louis sneers.

"So you're not going to sneak into the company party with me?" Niall pouts.

"No. I'll be working with the product development team in Korea all day tomorrow." Louis straightens out his papers and sets them to the side of his computer. "Now if you don't mind, I'm working."

Niall shakes his head. "Whatever you say Lou."

Louis changes his music to Avenged Sevenfold and ignores Niall as he goes back to working.

~~~


	4. Chapter 4

 

A/N: Dedicated to M2A7Nield :) 

Thank you to everyone who reads any/all of my stories. I appreciate you so much xx

-Dannie Ybarra

~~~

H

Harry walks straight up to Cecelia and holds his hand out for her to shake.  "Cecelia, I'm Harry Styles."

He gives her the biggest grin he can muster and raises his eyebrows.  He's sure if he looked at himself in the mirror, he'd look a little maniacal.  He tries not to dwell on the thought too much because Lenny told him he's got to go all out every time until he feels comfortable enough with that to tone it down.

Cecelia cranes her head back a little bit in a 'what the fuck' type of motion.  Harry can't really blame her.  He knows he looks like an idiot.

She holds out a soft hand to him and he maybe crushes it a little too hard, but Lenny told him to give his best handshake every time.

"It's a pleasure Harry."  She winces as Harry releases her hand.

He sits down in the empty chair- _damn it_ \- he was supposed to wait for her to invite him to do so.  He reprimands himself with a hard pinch to the thigh, then realizes his hands are supposed to be above the table.

He moves them up, folding them across the wooden surface of her desk.  He makes sure to keep excellent eye contact with her and not even look at the magazines scattered across the table.

The Jewish woman is dressed in a bunch of colors that look within three shades of each other.  He wonders if Louis would critique her for it.

She looks a little offended with his aggressive demeanor, but doesn't shy away from it.  "So the first thing I'd like to cover with you Harry, is establishing your own personal style.  Can you tell me a little bit about what you're currently most comfortable in?"

"Eherm, yeah sure.  So I usually just wear cowboy boots with Wranglers or Levis and a t-shirt.  Sometimes I'll wear my Stetson when I ain't havin' a good hair day or if it's really sunny.  It's all just the most comfortable y'know?  Plus, it's most practical for the farm."  Harry says.

Her eyes widen a little bit, but she hides it by angling her face down towards the magazines.  "What do you know about high fashion?"

"Um, well.  Girls get Gucci purses, right?"  Harry chews on the inside of his lip.  He thinks he remembers Mona making fun of some girls from school who wanted a Gucci purse once.

Cecelia looks at Harry straight in the eye.  "Harry, this is going to be a long and difficult road.  I don't have much hope for you doing this on your own, so you're going to have to trust me with a lot of this stuff at first until I feel confident that you can dress yourself while going out to events."

"Uhm, okay...?"  Harry furrows his eyebrows.  He doesn't really see why this is such a big deal.

"Already from looking at you, I want to put you in something foreign.  French and British designs.  I don't want you in American fashion; it's not the right style.  And not Italian either; it won't suit your build."  Cecelia flips through a magazine.  "I want you thinking Jake Gyllenhaal meets Johnny Depp."

"The guy from Pirates of the Caribbean?"  Harry pulls the magazine form Cecelia.  "You want me dressing like a pirate?"

"You don't wear what he wears in the movie.  You wear what he wears on a daily basis."  Cecelia points to a candid picture on the glossy page.

"I like his hat.  Can I wear a hat like that?"  Harry points to another picture on the opposite page.

Cecelia purses her lips.  "We could try something with fedoras.  They're looked at more as whimsical than anything else, so it couldn't be an everyday thing."

Harry nods.

"Okay, I'm going to show you several different outfits, and I want you pointing to whichever one you could see yourself in most."  Cecelia instructs as she opens up five other magazines.

Like a game.  A fashion game.  Harry can do fashion games.

"Okay, which one do you like best?"  She splays them all in front of his face.

Harry scratches his head.  "I don't really like any of these to be honest."

"If you _had_ to choose.  Which would it be?"  She clarifies.

"Prolly this one I s'ppose."  He points to the simplest outfit.

From there on out, it's Harry starting to see that he has a preference for loose, billowy, and whimsical shirts that won't be scratchy against his skin; and tighter, dark pants that remind him of his Wranglers.  The suits are impossible for him to decipher from each other, and Harry eventually gets so frustrated that he groans and rubs his eyes with his fists.

"Okay, we'll call it good for this portion of our lesson.  I've gathered a great deal of information that I think will suffice to start putting together a demo wardrobe for you.  Now it's time to get you ready for the party.  We'll be going over conversation starters, conversation closers, and how to politely side step subjects."  Cecelia stands up and motions for Harry to follow her.

God, Harry thought he was done for the day.

He takes a deep breath and follows her out of the room and into her car.

"Innit a Halloween party?"  Harry asks as he gets into the Audi R8.  "So like, I don't _need_ to dress fashionable?"

"Honey."  She puts on her sunglasses and looks at Harry.  "You're in New York."

"So you're choosin' for me?"  Harry asks.

She reverses the car and screeches out of the parking garage.  Harry grabs onto the door to keep himself from being flung around in the bullet of a car.  "Well, let's try this.  What _would_ you wear if I let you have free rein?"

"Um, prolly my clothes from Kentucky.  To everyone else it would look like a costume, but I'd be comfortable for once since movin' here."  Harry says cleverly and grips tighter on the handle as they take a sharp corner.

"Nope.  Not acceptable."  She says.  "There's a reason we haven't had you meet a lot of people in the company yet.  When you do meet them, you need to _impress_ them.  Make them look up to you.  Make them want to work for you once you take over the company."

Sure.  Because that's what Harry plans on doing when March 26th rolls around.

"What're you gonna make me wear then?"  Harry asks.

"We _could_ go for Johnny Depp's Pirates of the Caribbean look if you want.  You mentioned it earlier and didn't seem completely appalled at the idea of me making you wear it on a daily basis.  I assume a Halloween costume would be within the realms of comfort for you."  Cecelia whips the car into a parking lot.

Harry grins.  "Pirates are cool."

Two hours later, they have everything bought and assembled for Harry's costume.  He does look rather authentic if he does say so himself.  Cecelia has gone for a Charlie's Angels outfit that she's coordinated with two other women from the company.

Harry wonders when people started taking Halloween so seriously.

They're in the car again and headed back towards the headquarters and Cecelia has been briefing him on conversational basics in terms of popular and cultural things Harry can talk about.

"Just remember to stay away from politics and religion under all circumstances.  The second thing I don't want you saying anything about is your knowledge- or lack thereof- about running this company.  Thirdly, do _not_ slander our competitor.  It's a novice mistake that too many amateurs make."  Cecelia instructs while pulling back into the parking garage.

"Who's our competitor?"  Harry looks over at her.

She throws the car into park, making Harry jolt forward a bit.  "My God.  You've lived on this planet for 25 years and don't know who Roots' competitor is?"

Harry looks down at his pirate boots, then remembers he's supposed to keep eye contact.  "Um, no...?"

"Metal Core.  Anything to do with Metal Core and Louis Tomlinson, I do not want you uttering a word of it until Pablo trains you."  Cecelia pulls down her glasses to look harshly at Harry.

Harry's heart flutters a little faster because _Louis._   There's no way it could be the same Louis.  Louis was at a private company get together for Roots last week.  There's a million Louis'.  There's probably five Louis' that work at Roots and five that work at Metal Core.  It's not like it's an uncommon name.

Still though, Harry's head goes a little fuzzy and he _has_ to ask Niall.

"Right."  Harry mumbles.

"Just switch topics and tell a nice anecdote about training cows or something.  If all else fails, run away or fake throwing up.  We _cannot_ have you getting tangled in any kind of personal opinions on Louis and Metal Core in such an ignorant state.  All the wrong things will be said and the rumors will never die."  She shudders.

"Okay."  Harry doesn't bother correcting her on the fact that he never 'trained' his cows.

"Let's go then."  Cecelia leads him in and up to the first level where there is a live band playing Halloween music and the floor is filled with people in costumes.

Two other women approach them who are in matching costumes to Cecelia.

One of them with red hair speaks.  "Hello!  I'm Brandy."  She holds her hand out for Harry to take.

"Pleasure to meet you Brandy.  Harry Styles."  He says with a grin while shaking her hand.

The blonde one speaks next.  "I'm Candi.  It's good to meet you Harry."  She sways her hips from side to side while holding her hand out for him to take.

"Pleasure to meet you Candi."  This time his smile falters into something much more fake looking.

"You know... I _love_ your costume."  Candi bats her eyelashes at him.

"Sorry, she's had a little too much to drink."  Brandy wraps an arm around Candi's shoulders, then gives Cecelia a nervous glance.

"It's fine."  Harry looks at Cecelia for help.

Cecelia laughs.  "Let's go girls.  Harry has a lot of people to meet tonight."  She rests her arm rather low and possessively around Brandy's waist.

Then seconds later they disappear into the crowd.

Harry feels very alone.  He wonders if his father is here.

He moseys over to the punch bowl because it will at least make him look like he's doing something.  He ladles some ice into one of the red solo cups.

"Hiya Harry!  Rad costume mate."  A familiar voice in an unfamiliar accent says from behind him.

Harry turns around to see Niall dressed in Slytherin robes from Harry Potter.  "Hi Niall.  Nice accent."

"Thanks mate.  I think it sounds a wee bit more Irish than British, but I figure if I keep trying at it, I'll sound less like a ponce and more authentic by the end of the night."  Niall says.

Harry laughs and tries a British accent of his own.  "Ace mate."  He ladles the red liquid into his cup and drinks all of it in one go, scrunching his nose up at the strong smell and taste of alcohol.

"Good try."  Niall rolls his eyes.  "By the way, the punch is spiked with Smirnoff.  Just thought I'd give you a heads up since you look like you're about to drink a dozen cups of it."

"Fuck."  Harry chokes on the last swallow of the liquid.  "Shit.  Oops."

"Not a drinker?"  Niall muses and pours himself a cup.

"I like iced tea.  Plus, I'm try'na remember all of my lessons and I can't do that if my brain's slowed down."  Harry explains.

"Makes sense."  Niall takes a drink and they move to the side of the table.  "You been doing well in lessons then?  Enjoying them?"

"Yeah.  'S really different.  I was talkin' to Cecelia today and- _oh_!  Actually."  Harry looks around and drags Niall farther to the side of the room and away from people.  "I got a question for you."

"Okay?"  Niall looks thoroughly intrigued.

"D'you remember Louis?  The one you introduced me to at the company party last week?  You spilled some of your red wine on him and I showed him the bathroom?"  Harry recites the incident.

Niall looks like he's choosing his words very carefully.  "Yes...?"

"What's his last name?"  Harry asks.

"Tomlinson."  Niall's eye twitches the slightest bit.  "Why do you ask?"

Harry's heart is pounding in his ears and he's sure what ever existed of his composure is completely gone.  "W-was just curious.  Never heard his last name."

Niall looks around to check for people again, then leans in a little closer.  "Why do you ask Harry?"

"I- um, well, er..." Harry stutters.  "Cecelia told me not to talk about our competitor or slander them, and I asked who our competitor was.  She said- well, anyways, she says it was Metal Core and Louis Tomlinson runs the company.  Is that true?"

Niall nods.

"Why was he at our party then?"  Harry asks.

"Why are you so curious?"  Niall asks.

"Well I just didn't know- because why would we have our competitor at our party?"  Harry asks.  "Is he here tonight?"

Niall shakes his head.  "He's working.  Doesn't do parties that often."

"He's working?  It's almost 10."  Harry looks at the wall to his right where a clock is hung.

Niall's eyes go a little wider.  "Um, yeah.  Right.  It's just known that he's always working.  Has a reputation for working 24/7."

"Oh.  Okay..."  Harry says.  He desperately wants to ask more, but Cecelia literally _just_ told him not to bring up Louis Tomlinson under any circumstances, so he has to follow her instruction.  Even though he thinks Niall might be an exception.

"Look Harry, I've got to go.  Appearances to make, you know?"  Niall pats him on the shoulder before leaving.

Harry nods dumbly, feeling a lot of things.

The man he's been dreaming about and fantasizing over is his company's biggest competitor.  He's known by everyone in this building, and hundreds of people in his own.

Harry inadvertently insinuated for Louis to punish him in a club restroom.  He asked for critique on his clothing style.  He admitted to Louis that he was _gay._   He's masturbated to the thought of Louis bossing him around for a week now.

Oh God.  What if Louis knows who Harry is?

He _has_ to know.  Harry was late in the game figuring out who Louis was.  That means Louis has to already know about Harry.

But did Louis know who he was when they first met?

Did Louis even interpret the bathroom encounter the same as Harry did?  Maybe Harry misinterpreted all the signs.  Maybe Louis just thinks Harry is a weird, socially awkward person who dresses terribly and is a terrible conversationalist.

It's all the sudden _much_ too sweaty in his costume.

He decides he definitely needs some alcohol to calm down because he needs _something_ to sedate him since he doesn't have someone to punish him.

He scurries over to the punch bowl again and nearly knocks over who he recognizes as the new secretary for his father.

"Oops!  I'm so sorry!"  Harry grabs onto his arm before he can fall to the floor.

"Sorry!  Didn't mean to run into you..."  The man in a cowboy costume responds.

"It's okay.  Was my fault."  Harry smiles.  "I like your costume."

"Oh... thank you..."  The man with big brown eyes pulls at his flannel button up.

"Is that a Stetson?"  Harry nods to the cowboy hat.

He furrows his eyebrows.  "Um...?"

Harry reaches up to pull it off his head and points at the small inscription on the inside of the hat.  "Stetson.  Good taste."

The man takes it back from Harry.  "Thanks.  You're Harry right?  The farmer from Kentucky?"

Harry nods.  "Sorry, and what's your name?  Don't think I've actually met you yet..."

"It's Liam.  Liam Payne.  I started the same day as you."  Liam puts the Stetson back on his head.

"Oh cool.  You likin' it so far?"  Harry questions as they move from the punch bowl to the side of the crowd.

"So much."  Liam sighs.  "Everyone here is amazing to work with compared to my last job.  Everyone treats me like family."

"Good.  'M glad you think that."  Harry smiles, feeling a little bit of pride for the company that he's a part of.

"Desmond is like, really nice.  Like, he's scary, but he's nice about it.  My last boss was a complete power-hungry, narcissistic, control freak."  Liam mutters into the rim of his drink.

"Was you doing the same thing?  Workin' as a secretary?"  Harry asks, feeling bad for Liam.

Liam shrugs.  "It felt more like I was imprisoned and forced into labor; but yeah, same job title."

Harry nods slowly.  He likes Liam.  He wants to know about Liam.  He's not trying to compare his company to others, but it's obvious Liam likes his the best.  If anything, Harry thinks it's smart because he'll know which smaller tech company is on the way out if they can't even keep their secretary's.  His dad would be proud if he came back with relevant information.

"So."  Harry tries for nonchalance.  "Where'd you work before this exactly?"

Liam scoffs and hiccups.  "Metal Core obviously.  Everyone there is insane.  It was degrading the way they all treated me.  Like they were better than me.  Mr. Tomlinson was the worst of them all.  It's no wonder everyone else who walks in his footsteps act like arrogant assholes."

A bunch of red alarm lights flash on and off in Harry's head, and he panics.  He shouldn't have asked.  He definitely should not have asked.  But he did.  Now he needs to avoid the topic.  Avoid it or fake sickness.

"You know I used to live on a farm?"  Harry says; and after he says it, he realizes that yes, Liam already does know that he lived on a farm.

"You're probably safer going back to your farm than trying to make it out here.  It's dog-eat-dog and you seem like much too decent of a guy to have to go against the likes of Louis Tomlinson.  You know he's planning on buying out Vander Tech simply because they're too small to be able to protect themselves against him?  He's going to steal all their technology."  Liam hiccups again.

"I um- I need to go.  I eherm, my foot hurts."  Harry turns and tries to not run from Liam, instead looking for Cecelia again.

The churning in his gut doesn't stop and he feels like the room is much too big.  This building is much too big.  New York is much too big.

He's about to run and hide in his old, rusted pickup truck, but as he turns, he's grabbed by a group of people and forced to talk to them.

That's how it goes the rest of the night- Harry getting pulled in every direction and meeting more people than he can remember the names of.  It's lots of compliment giving and receiving and shallow conversations that Harry stumbles through most of the time, but he thinks he does okay considering it's probably the most he's spoken in months.

He thinks of Louis Tomlinson the entire time.

~~~


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Dedicated to sam18world :)

Twitter: [@LemonSuccubus](http://www.twitter.com/lemonsuccubus) and [@dannieybarra](http://www.twitter.com/dannieybarra)

 

~~~

L

Louis has fired 20 people and watched over 200 porn videos this week at work.

He wouldn't ever admit to _drinking_ on the job, but he maybe had Zayn accidentally drop a Grey Goose shot in his orange juice during lunches.

Louis is just happy to be able to enjoy alcohol again is all.

And not enjoy much else.

Because really, everything else has been awful.

It's not that working has been awful. Working is never awful. Working is the best thing in Louis' life. It gives him fire in his veins and a reason to jump out of bed every morning.

But it's fucking difficult to _work_ when he's bombarded by kids in costumes and loved ones visiting every day. Louis has shut himself in his office more than normal.

He eats lunch behind his locked office door now. He takes the back elevator and parks by the back entrance in the parking garage. If he needs to talk to finance or human resources or engineering, he messages them through Google chat or calls them from his office phone.

There's Halloween decorations and hay bales and spider webs and glow-in-the-dark bats hanging from the ceilings of every floor and cubicle in the entire building except for Louis'.

Louis fucking _hates_ the holidays.

Employee productivity goes down, morale gets too high, kids are everywhere, and consumers go crazy. It leads to him pulling a lot of weight that ends up being neglected by incompetent and lazy employees.

Along with that, it's trying to work with engineering and product development to get a new product to market.

Louis doesn't know why the fuck more people aren't as thrilled over this as he is. Why everyone isn't willing to work till midnight every night. Why other people would rather put in less hours, call in their sick days, and cash in their vacation time.

It's the optimal season for his company to thrive, and his employees act like Black Friday isn't around the fucking corner.

Then to wind down from the stress and frustration, he locks his door for lunch and ends up watching porn the entire time.

It wasn't the original intention, of course.

Originally, it was to get away from kids and significant others and holiday distractions.

But Monday when he shut his door for lunch at 11:59am, he walked back to his seat, and as the clock turned to 12:00pm, Harry Styles walked out of the front entrance of Roots Inc. in spandex shorts and a spandex tank.

That's what pushed him over the edge and made him spend 55 minutes of his lunch on his computer.

And every day since then, it's been like clockwork. Harry comes out of the building across the street from Metal Core in his spandex outfit and curls up in a fucking bun, and he runs off towards Central Park, returning at precisely 12:55pm and Louis watches him waltz back into the front door of Roots and Louis immerses himself in work.

If his wrist wasn't in good shape before, it's in fantastic shape now. Not to mention the amount of dumbbell lifting he does throughout the day too. He's even gotten back on his old Instagram account to look at some of his favorite pictures again.

Louis briefly considered the avenue of purchasing un-openable blinds for his office. Then he laughed at himself for five minutes.

So finally, it's Saturday, and today is the mixer that he 'absolutely has to attend because he R.S.V.P.'d for himself and 50 of his employees.'

It's not Roots Inc. that hosts the industry mixers every time. Metal Core hosts two a year themselves. It's just Roots' turn to do the hosting.

Roots probably has a hard time keeping track though since they're the 'party company' of the industry. If there isn't an event for them to attend, they create or invent one.

Louis, _obviously_ , doesn't have time for that, and he will never approve of a budget that includes expenses for such frivolous things. It's the reason why Metal Core has a higher class reputation than Roots. It's why people take Metal Core more seriously as a company.

Especially- _especially_ \- now that they have someone qualified running the company in comparison to a backwoods farmer.

That was the longest and hardest struggle for Louis when stepping into position as CEO at Metal Core. Desmond was the seasoned and respected leader of Roots, and Louis' predecessor was equally matched with him. Louis had to work his _ass_ off in order to earn the kind of respect that Desmond had.

But now the tables have turned and Louis is the one with the advantage because fuck Harry and his rich father. Louis will exploit the hell out of the situation if he ends up having to drag his own reputation in the mud to attain it. He's so close to being the best that it's tangible. It's at his fingertips and his company just needs a small push to be the best.

The club is a tacky one because Roots wouldn't know how to choose a chic, posh one if it bit them in the ass. Louis had to stop conferencing with people at 7:30 this evening in the taxi cab to the club because he was starting to slur his words. He's maybe had a few too many spiked orange juices today.

It's no matter though. He's on his way to the waste of time, obligatory holiday party that he doesn't give two shits about.

"That'll be $70.56." The cab driver pulls up to the curb.

"Bull fucking shit. You literally drove me down the fucking block." Louis argues.

"I drove you 10 blocks, and there was traffic. The meter was ticking. It's $70.58 now." The cab driver holds a hand back.

"Jesus Christ." Louis pulls out his wallet and throws a 50 and 20-dollar bill at him before sliding out of the cab and into the biting cold evening air of New York.

Louis walks up to the entrance where they don't ask him for identification because everyone in America knows who he is. Inside the club are tables with red table cloths that look horribly out of place and a bunch of people dressed to the nines in designer-this and designer-that.

He pulls out his phone to call Zayn and have him meet him backstage. He skipped the first hour of hors d'oeuvres and bull shitting so that when he showed up everyone would be heartily buzzed and gotten the formalities out of the way. Louis doesn't have time for that.

It's ten minutes until he's due to give his speech though- five minutes after Harry's- and he should probably drink as much water as possible so that he doesn't start slurring on stage with the microphone in his hand.

He's rounding the corner, when he trips over someone else's shoes that were headed exactly in the same line as he is.

"Shit! Sorry!" A voice exclaims as Louis meets someone's floral print button up face-first.

Louis tries not to crumple completely to the ground because, no, he still can hold himself upright, and takes a step backward to straighten out his suit and give his object of collision a nasty sneer.

But when he looks up, he sees Harry Styles dressed head to toe in Yves Saint Laurent. Top three buttons of his shirt undone, no undershirt, suit pants, knee-high socks, and black loafers without tassels.

Oh, and he's wearing a fedora.

Louis looks him up and down three more times and then laughs. He laughs like Harry Styles is the funniest thing he's ever seen and makes sure to add the condescending look of disgust to it all because _God_ , that's a _fedora_.

Harry's face quickly falls into something close to horror as his cheeks go pink. "'M sorry for running into you. Um, it's good to see you again Louis." He holds out a hand for Louis to shake.

Louis stops laughing and looks up at Harry who is attempting to stand confident and assertive, and _trying_ \- trying _so hard_ \- but failing to keep eye contact with Louis. Though not for lack of security in the action, but because his eyes keep falling then rising across every surface of Louis' body. And for as long as he stares at the curves of Louis' body, he spends just as much time correcting the action and refocusing back up to Louis' face.

"Looking might be free, but touching is far fucking from it." Louis laughs and brushes passed Harry, who is still holding a hand out and looking mortified.

"Hey!" Harry yells from behind Louis.

Louis spins on a dime, not expecting that from Harry. He looks at Harry like he's an idiot.

"Liam told me you're an asshole. He said he's never been so happy to change companies." Harry says looking like he's throwing a Hail Mary in the final quarter of the Super Bowl.

Louis snorts. "I figured he'd fit in the with the rest of your vapid staff. Glad he's found a home at the shelter for abused incompetents."

"Our company is the leading innovators in technology. We also have less employee turnaround than Metal Core." Harry says with a stale confidence. "That's not something a company of abused incompetents could achieve."

Louis doesn't even bother belittling Harry for the horrid cookie-cutter, rehearsed lines he just used. Though, he gives him brownie points of ingenuity for the last bit.

"Oh sweetie." Louis purses his lips at Harry. "That's lovely. Make sure to include that in your speech tonight."

He leaves Harry in a stance of disappointment this time. Disappointment for what? Louis isn't too sure. He's too focused on finding Zayn because he is supposed to be on stage in exactly 11 minutes.

The music fades down and there's tapping and feedback from the microphone.

"Hello? This thing on?" Harry's voice drawls through the microphone.

Louis rolls his eyes and bumps into Zayn. "Thank God! Did you make sure to get the paps here?"

Zayn smiles. "This isn't my first rodeo."

Louis laughs. Cowboy puns. "Good. Glad to see that you're mildly competent." He gives him the dumbest expression he can manage and walks back towards the stage.

He peeks around and sees Harry reading from notecards. He's obviously practiced the hell out of the speech. He starts with gratitude, welcoming formalities, and recognition to all the companies attending. After that, it's Harry giving a brief bio on himself and reading off the index card why he's excited to take over his father's company. Then he recites their company's philosophy and relates it to some silly anecdote from his farm in Kentucky.

Louis is amused. It's mediocre at best. There's constant stuttering, the switch of confident to insecure, the obvious discomfort when it comes to Harry's motivation behind running the company, and completely _not_ something that will get people talking.

Louis has a newly formulated plan that will get people talking.

Harry introduces Louis- which Louis finds entertaining- and welcomes him to the stage.

Louis loosens his tie, undoes his neck button, rolls up one of his sleeves and rumples one of the sides of his shirt so that it's unevenly tucked in. He staggers a little bit onto the stage where Harry is looking at him with wide eyes.

Louis gives him a maniac grin and giggles when he takes the mic from Harry.

Louis isn't drunk. He is so far from it. But he wants to get people talking about more than just his new technology. Louis isn't scared of press. Any publicity is good publicity, and Louis looks out and sees all the employees of which he's worked and partied with for eight years now- many paps that he recognizes- looking at him with surprise and confusion.

Louis has two motives. One: Steal the thunder of the party. Two: Embarrass the hell out of Harry.

"Well, well, well..." Louis slurs slightly. "Wasn't that great? So heartwarming that I think I might go invest in cows next! Buy myself one, name it Bessie, and milk it. So great, that even in his mediocrity he will be more eloquent than me because I _maaaay_ be a bit tipsy."

Louis giggles and several lights from paparazzi cameras flash brightly. "And shit! I forgot my index cards! Whatever will I do?" He asks animatedly and pats his suit a couple times, eliciting a small laugh from the crowd.

"Seriously though Harry. My hat is off to you." He looks over pointedly at Harry and tips an invisible cowboy hat at him and the crowd laughs- more pictures snap and red lights flash, showing that they're recording. _Good_.

"It took me _four years_ to get where you've gotten in a matter of days. Four years of licking _aaaall_ the right assholes so that I could stand up here in these shoes that are uncomfortable as fuck and try and impress... y'all." Louis gets into a lazy side cowboy stance and points his hands out at the audience like a gun and they laugh.

Then he points to Harry. "What's funny is they know I'm being completely serious. You've yet to learn, Harry The Sundance Kid. Nothing comes between me and the assholes I lick for success."

A roaring crowd from the audience, a dozen camera lights flash, and Harry is _crimson._ Louis licks his lips and winks to rub it in, then goes back to his speech.

"Okay, I know yer all wondering what the hell I'm doing here other than auditioning for Brokeback Mountain- but in my defense- who hasn't already ordered the graphic designers to Photoshop Harry into all of our 2016 Cowboy Calendars?" A handful of cat calls from the audience, and a few hands go up to accompany the sea of laughter. "I know my design team has been _very busy_ since Harry's ridden into town. I just can't wait to see what else he's willing to ride."

Louis grabs the mic stand aggressively and grinds up against it, making everyone explode with chatter and laughter. The frequent flashing from the cameras are making Louis' eyes dilate. He wiggles his eyebrows back at Harry who looks like he'd rather be dead.

"Let me tell you, I truly can't wait to go head to head on product releases with you because we're ahead in product development. The battle of who's cock is bigger has begun." Louis says suggestively.

The audience cheers loud as ever. More lights flash, and Louis thinks, _this_. This is what he's been missing. This is the kind of excitement he needs in his life.

"May the better man win. And remember," Louis taps his temple with his index finger, "I am the Master of all Wisdom. Roots may have been ahead in the innovation game for decades. But it's Metal Core's turn."

"Harry, giddy-up on over here par-da-ner." Louis waves dramatically for Harry to take a few steps over to the center stage.

Harry steps forward like he's on already cracked eggshells, and Louis can see him tremble when he gets within arm's length.

Louis wraps an arm around his shoulder, at which Harry flinches (something that still bothers Louis in the back of his mind), and pulls him in closer to his side.

"Roots, I just want to give you regards from the bottom of my big heart. You have a real ' _Root'_ in-Tootin Cowboy and I'm just as thrilled for him to break your company like a horse as I am me." Louis places a big, wet kiss to Harry's cheek. "Welcome to New York sweetie."

It's cheers and laughter and blinding lights flashing, and when Harry staggers off the stage as gracefully as possible- his fedora falling off and getting left behind- Louis gives a bow and motions for the DJ to turn the music on. The DJ and him seem to be on the same wavelength- as he blasts some hipster country- and the party is in full swing.

Louis exits off the stage, seeing Harry rush off towards the restrooms. He tucks his shirt back in, fixes his tie and buttons, then trails after him to possibly rub it in some more because Louis does love to kick people when they're down.

Niall bombards his path. "What the fucking, _fucking_ hell was that Louis?!" He yells.

"The most genius coup d'état I'll ever do the rest of my life." Louis smirks.

"Louis!" Niall looks like he should have steam coming out the sides of his ears with how red his face is.

"Save it! I'm busy." Louis snaps and pushes Niall out of the way.

The bathroom door opens more silently than Louis anticipated, which is fine, but he didn't realize that would also mean he could hear the telltale sound of skin slapping skin and moaning coming from one of the stalls.

It's only the gasps and breath of one person though. Louis has heard himself masturbate too many times to not know what going solo sounds like- even at best.

So he shuts the door just as quietly, locking it behind him, positive that it's Harry who is in here. His head starts to go fuzzy with something that is definitely not alcohol and he feels it rush through his blood. The chemical over powers him when he distinguishes the moans from the apparent sobs as well.

Louis has been fighting a hard on since the moment he saw the humiliation across Harry's face. Now, in the tile clad walls with the sound of Harry's desperation echoing from one end to the other, his cock fills rapidly.

His Oxfords clack against the tiled floor, and at the sound, Harry's effectively stop. When Louis gets to the only closed stall, he smiles at seeing that it isn't locked, and pushes the door open.

Harry is standing with his pants around his ankles, face completely drenched in tears, and a purple cock that starkly contrasts from the gentle floral pattern of his shirt.

"Funny. I thought seeing you caught with your pants down in actuality would look different than it did on stage. Turns out I was wrong." Louis tightens his lips like he's disappointed.

Harry stands with wide eyes still leaking with a steady stream of tears and doesn't make a move. Doesn't even try and cover his cock or pull up his pants.

"I- I-" Harry tries with a broken voice.

Louis raises his eyebrows and speaks innocently. "You what Harry?"

"Sorry!" Harry's voice cracks through another sob.

"You damned well be sorry for trying to insult me." Louis says evenly. "Trust me Harry- tonight was nothing. I am capable of so much worse. Your most terrifying nightmares will not be able to conjure up what I am capable of. Is that clear?"

Harry nods so quickly that some hair falls forward and sticks to the wetness on his cheeks.

"So is this ever going to be a problem again?" Louis muses like Harry might answer something other than no.

"No- 'M so sorry-" Harry cries.

Louis blinks at him. "You keep saying you're sorry, but all I see is someone very worked up and very much enjoying this whole situation. Tell me Harry. Are you enjoying this? The public humiliation and ridicule from me?"

Harry opens his mouth to lie. Louis can see it in his eyes and body language. In fact, Louis is about to call him out on it before he even speaks, but then something changes in Harry's demeanor, and Louis waits to see what he'll say.

"Yes." Harry says brokenly.

And well. Louis isn't a Dominant because he's an asshole.

"Thought so." He smirks. "What do you suppose we do about this then?"

Harry's eyes dilate and then he's taking as large of a step as he can with his pants around his ankles, and kneels down in front of Louis, undoing his belt and fly so quickly that Louis is sure the stitching will rip.

Louis is jolted from his mindset of control at Harry's outburst and has to reevaluate what's happening and what he's going to do about it.

Louis grabs Harry harshly by his curls and yanks his head back before he can take his cock into his mouth. "You really think you deserve this right now? After what just happened, you think you deserve _this_?"

A fresh wave of tears fall from Harry's eyes as he shakes his head in Louis' grip. "No! 'M s-sorry. Punish me _please_!"

For as much of the BDSM scene as Louis has been involved in, this is not a situation he's ever found himself in before. _Normally_ , Louis gets into a scene at a BDSM club where everyone is on the same page with clear expectations and knowledge on how a scene will go. _Normally,_ Louis has subs that he goes over contracts with first until he and his sub have an explicit understanding of each other.

Louis has never found himself in a bathroom with a stranger- whom he has formally met twice and publicly humiliated- beg him for punishment. Louis doesn't even know what that means to Harry. He has no fucking clue if Harry's ever been involved in BDSM before. No fucking clue what his idea of punishment and pleasure are.

It's too- it's too god damned unknown for the type of person that Louis is and the way Harry is behaving. They can't just jump into this head first. Louis is meant to be the one in control here. Louis is supposed to think these things through for when subs are too spacy to think clearly.

He makes a call that he really doesn't _want_ to make, but does for the sake of both of them. "You're damn right I'll punish you. You don't get fucking anything tonight. You don't get to touch me and you don't get to orgasm for the rest of the night. Pull your pants up and give me 20 jumping jacks."

Harry looks embarrassed beyond belief, but does as Louis instructs without hesitation.

Louis didn't do it because he wanted to watch Harry listen to him. He already knew Harry would listen to him. Louis did it because he's now responsible for the scene he found Harry in and helping him come down from it safely because he does, in fact, still have two hours left of a party to host.

When Harry's finished his jumping jacks, he's still panting, but the tears have stopped flowing and the erection in his pants has gone down significantly. "What next?"

Louis slides his bum down the metal stall, focusing on getting his own boner down. "I want you to sit on the floor next to me and tell me why you're in New York."

Harry sits next to him without hesitation. It takes him a full two minutes to speak though, and when he does, it's slower and his shoulders have sunk back into the metal stall a little more.

Harry takes a breath like it's the first time he's done so all evening. "My dad blackmailed me into coming. Said I only gotta stay till the 26th of March to see if I still want to run the company. Said he got other arrangements if I don't want it. I dunno why he cares so much."

"He's a father. All father's want a legacy to pass on to their sons." Louis says.

"I wish I was back in Kentucky without any kind of legacy." Harry looks down at his knees. "I don't belong here."

"Everybody belongs here. That's why New York is wonderful. No discrimination. Doesn't matter if you're a high school dropout or a cow farmer. You can still make it." Louis sets a soft hand on Harry's thigh.

Harry pushes Louis' hand away and instead closes in around his knees, wrapping his arms around his buried head and shins.

He's dropping, and Louis needs to keep it from happening too rapidly or Harry could be stuck in a negative head space for days. It's just _hard_ because Louis doesn't have any kind of trust or relationship established with Harry in which to help him feel secure.

Louis wracks his brain for the best course of action and sizes up Harry who is curled in like a ball on himself, his suit pants riding up his leg and nothing but his shoes poking out. Which-

"I noticed you got black loafers without tassels. They suit you much better, you should know. You look quite snazzy." Louis gives him a light nudge.

Harry cocks his head to the side a little to size Louis up with the eye that's peeking over the ridge of his arm.

"And you didn't wear ankle socks. Are they mid-calf or full on knee socks?" Louis asks.

Harry stretches out his legs a little bit. "Knee socks. I tried mid-calf, but they don't stay up."

That's unsurprising, considering how well toned and muscular Harry is from head to toe.

"And your shirt- you went for three buttons undone. But no undershirt... why is that?" Louis asks gently.

"Well." Harry looks down at his shirt. "Everything dark showed through, 'n the light ones were too close in color. Is it bad? Should I've worn something underneath anyway?"

Louis shakes his head. "If you're comfortable with just the shirt on, it's fine. Most people just have too-sensitive of nipples to have material rubbing against them all day."

Harry smiles. "It's soft. It ain't scratchy, so it don't hurt 'em."

"Do you know the kind of material you're wearing?" Louis smiles because he knows Harry doesn't know.

"No..." Harry takes the edge of the shirt between his fingers and experimentally rubs it between his thumb and index finger.

"It's silk. That's why it's soft on your skin. If it feels best on you, you should stick to wearing it. It looks great with your physique." Louis compliments.

Harry blushes. "I think you're better with fashion than Cecelia."

"No. I've just had the hell ripped out of me for wearing everything wrong in the book, and worked around enough conceited people long enough to know what's socially acceptable and what's not. I'm sure Cecelia is much more educated than I." Louis chuckles.

Harry is silent for a minute, and the silence doesn't feel so quiet to Louis.

"We're in a bathroom." Harry says.

"Would you like to leave the bathroom?" Louis offers Harry an easy out from the situation. "We can go our separate ways and enjoy the rest of the night. I know you have a lot of people to talk to."

Harry nods.

Louis stands up and holds out a hand to help Harry up.

Louis holds the stall door open as Harry walks through it, then right as he's about to unlock the bathroom door, Louis speaks up because he really, _really_ has a soft spot for subs that go spacey and trust him enough to bring them down from it. "Harry?"

Harry pauses to turn and look back at him.

"Don't worry about the articles and the tabloids. Tonight will be old news in a month. You are the only one who knows who you are." Louis says, remembering the emotional distress of his first media shit storm.

Harry nods and gives Louis a small smile. "Thank you."

Louis smiles back as he watches Harry leave out of the bathroom and tries to ignore the tempting feeling that dances through his body.

~~~


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Surprise update!!

 

Dedicated to Elle !! Thank you so much for trying to kudos each chapter :') <3

~~~                  

H

Desmond slams a stack of newspapers and tabloids onto his desk, absolutely fuming.  The headlines are all over the place.

**Cowboy Harry Styles Loses Quick Draw with Louis Tomlinson**

**Brokeback Mountain in NYC?**

**Drunk Asshole, Louis Tomlinson, Takes Over Roots Industry Mixer**

**Cow Farmer Slandered by CEO Louis Tomlinson**

**21st Century Romeo and Juliet?**

**Master of All Wisdom pwns Master of the House**

**Greenhorn Harry Styles Already Lost the Rodeo**

**High School Drop Out vs. Cow Farmer**

Each article is accompanied by the best shots of Louis riding the mic, in cowboy stances, and Harry sniveling off to the side looking mortified.  Then of course the picture of Louis' lips against Harry's cheek with the publicist's favorite quote from the whole event.

"I'm suing Metal Core for slander, defamation, and libel.  There are full recordings on YouTube of the entire incident and I've had our legal team on it since six this morning."  Desmond types away furiously at his computer.

Harry tries not to smile at the articles strewn across the table.  "It's on YouTube?"

"Over 3 million hits."  Desmond snaps.  "I'm having you meet with Lenny and Pablo every day until you can learn to handle yourself in these kinds of situations.  I'm also giving you a social media specialist and a public debate teacher.  I was really hoping for better from Louis, but it seems as if nothing has changed and he's still willing to go to any extent for his own gain."

Harry wants to point out that Louis isn't that bad of a person. 

Louis... he treated Harry in a way he's never been treated before.  In a way that made Harry feel completely secure and safe.  In fact, if he were to choose between his father and Louis in terms of trust, he would choose Louis every time.

The thing that's frustrated him though is not knowing what happens next.  Harry can't exactly waltz into Metal Core and bring Louis a sandwich for lunch then try to suck his cock again. 

Louis was right.  Harry didn't deserve to touch Louis.  He's so, _so_ glad that Louis didn't let him.  Harry deserved every bit of his punishments last night and he feels fantastic about it today because he still hasn't masturbated.  He doesn't really want to until Louis says he can.

But Harry has no idea the next time he'll see Louis. 

The next industry mixer isn't until December.  They don't have any meetings or calls scheduled with Metal Core.  Harry thinks it's probably not kosher to just dial the front desk and ask for Louis' extension; nor does he think he could just invite Louis out to lunch.

Harry needs to make Louis come to him.  Needs to piss Louis off and make him want to come and punish him.

Harry smiles.  "Why not play dirty back?  Ain't gotta worry 'bout a lawsuit.  Let's like, just get the upper hand."

"Harry, I didn't get my company to its status by playing dirty- I am not Louis Tomlinson.  We will not risk our own integrity just to look better in the public's eye."  Desmond continues focusing on his computer.

"Well, like, I'm just sayin' we could really help another company out too.  It would look integritous to the public."  Harry says.

"What are you even talking about?"  Desmond's attention finally shifts to Harry.

"Like, you know Liam?  He used to work at Metal Core 'n he said Louis was tryin'a buy out a company- Vander Tech- so he could steal their technology.  What if we bought it instead?"  Harry proposes, proud of himself for such an idea.

Desmond squints his eyes.  "Who told you to spout off this ridiculous idea to me?"

"No one.  Thought of it myself."  Harry shrugs.  "Was just thinkin' of what would piss Louis off, but um, it'll also help our company too."

Desmond taps his fingers against the wooden desk while he thinks in silence.

"I'm normally not one for acquisitions of passion, but this may be exactly what we need.  You've solved more problems than you think you did Harry."  Desmond picks up his phone.  "I'm getting the team on it ASAP.  Go now.  You're meeting with Sarah in social media in 10 minutes.  Floor 10."

Harry nods and gets himself up. 

Meeting with Sarah is more information than Harry was prepared to process.  He's set up social media accounts he's never even heard of before and Sarah helped him 'follow' and 'connect' with all the right people.

He's made his first tweet with a selfie of himself and Sarah with the simple caption and several emojis: **Working 'round the clock!**

Twitter was most interesting to him because Sarah explained that it's a global app.  But when Harry went to what was trending, #DropoutVsFarmer was the top trend with more pictures from last night and Harry couldn't understand why out of everything going on in the world, people felt it most relevant that Harry had been publicly humiliated by Louis.

It's a bit like a continuation of last night though.  Makes Harry feel warm and tingly as he goes through all the articles.  Sees all the YouTube links of the event last night.  Sees all the pictures of himself and Louis on the stage.  He saves the YouTube link for watching later, then comes across an article with interesting pictures.

"Is this Louis?"  Harry passes his new Roots phone to Sarah.

"Yep.  Used to dress like that all the time when he was first getting into the business.  He finally pulled his head out of his ass and started dressing nicely.  Took him forever though.  His image used to be the butt crack of every joke back in the day."  Sarah says with her English accent and passes the phone back to Harry.

Harry looks through more of the photos.  It's Louis with his hair down in a soft and fluffy fringe, hair colored black, and black eyeliner.  Every bit of what he's wearing from head to toe is black or checkered with white and red and he's wearing a studded belt.  Harry wonders what made him dress that way.

The article mentions that when Louis dropped out of school at 16, he went to working for a Hilton as a bellhop.  There's younger pictures of Louis in his old work uniform too.  He still had fringey black hair and a minimal amount of eyeliner, but was dressed in starchy looking clothes while assisting hotel patrons.

"Why do people care so much about our personal lives?"  Harry asks her.

"It's a way for people to connect.  Humans all have the desire to connect with each other, but social media shows that we're willing to do it on any level- even if it's through the internet.  Louis' not that different either.  All he's doing is trying to connect with you- he just has a fucked up way of doing it."  The British girl points out.

Harry thinks though that maybe it's not Louis who is fucked up because he was only giving Harry what he wanted and deserved.  Harry thinks that it's probably him who has the fucked up way of wanting to connect with Louis.

Harry shifts through more and more articles until he crosses one that has a picture of Harry's head Photoshopped seamlessly onto a Sexy Cowboy Calendar of a man that's shirtless and in too-tight Wranglers, leaning up against a fence with a lasso in his hands. 

He grins at it.  "Does Louis got a Twitter?"

"Yes, and he has 4.7 million followers."  Sarah recites.

"That's a lot."  Harry doesn't even know that many people.

"Not really.  Some celebrities have 80 and 90 million followers.  Most businessmen of larger companies have a million or less, but Louis is a little bit more on the celebrity end of businessmen."  Sarah says.

"Can I tweet Louis?"  Harry asks.

She turns and furrows her eyebrows at him.  "I mean, you _could_.  What would you tweet him?"

"Well I found this picture.  I was gonna tweet him that he can tell his graphic design team to stop workin' so hard since it's already been taken care of."  Harry shows her the Photoshopped picture.

She laughs out loud.  "Yes!  Let's do it.  It will get you a couple hundred thousand followers and will keep up the media shit storm going on about you two.  Everyone likes good Twitter banter."

"Okay, how do I do it?"  Harry hands the phone over to her.

She takes it from him and snickers.  "Well, let's retweet this, and add your own caption to it.  That way you give the original person credit for their work, but can still personalize it.  Okay, here, how's this?"

Harry takes the phone back and looks at the drafted tweet.

**@MetalCoreLouis Looks like you can relieve your graphic design team of their duties! ;)  #DropoutVsFarmer**

Harry laughs.  "I love it.  So now I press this to tweet it?"

"Yep!  Then just wait for the notifications.  Until Louis' social media team realizes the tweet is actually from you, it may be a little slow.  Your account isn't verified yet since we've only just created it."  Sarah says.

"His team?  So he don't actually manage his Twitter?"  Harry feels a little disappointed.

"Oh I'm sure he does.  But the daily stupid inspirational quotes and pictures of him at charity or public events are definitely posted by his team.  We'll be posting a lot of things on yours as well.  You'll probably end up tweeting once for every 10 we send out.  Unless of course something of significance happens, in which we would notify you before responding."  Sarah explains.  "Chances are, the team will let him know you've tweeted him and ask how he wants to respond or if he does."

"Will he ignore it?"  Harry asks.

"Oh, he certainly could.  But I highly doubt it.  Louis Tomlinson has dragged more people on Twitter than I can remember and is personally responsible for ruining several people's careers and livelihoods over Twitter spats."  Sarah sighs.

"Oh my God.  That's... wow..."  Harry wonders if Louis will try and end his career through Twitter... wonders if that's what Louis tried doing last night too.  Maybe Louis is simply trying to run Harry out of the state with a myriad of tactics that Harry doesn't even recognize.

His phone has been popping up with notifications, but then a bar pops across the bottom of his screen saying he's been mentioned.

"Um..."  Harry passes the phone to Sarah.

"Louis responded!"  Sarah squeaks and Harry scoots closer to read over her shoulder.

**@RootsHarry Welcome to the 21st century Juliet. Glad you've discovered twitter. Personally, I had something more like this in mind...**

Then there's a link to another Photoshopped picture, but this time it's Harry straddling a saddle in underwear.  Harry turns bright red from his cheeks to his ears and his phone explodes with retweets, mentions, and favorites.

"Well, you're at 50 thousand followers now.  That didn't take long."  Sarah says.  "I think we should probably print these and hang them everywhere around the building too."

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but nothing but a squeak comes out, so he shuts it again. 

Then another bar pops across his screen from Louis. 

"Um... I think he said something else."  Harry says feebly.

"Let's have a look then!"  Sarah grabs the phone and clicks on the tweet.

**@RootsHarry Save a horse ride a cowboy ;) #DropoutVsFarmer**

Harry's eyes nearly pop out of his face.  "Can he _say_ stuff like that?"

Sarah shrugs.  "He's openly gay and openly an asshole.  He does whatever the fuck he wants."

Harry didn't actually know that.  It makes him regret sending out the first tweet because he doesn't want people _actually_ thinking he's gay.  That would be horrible.  "Can I... can I not respond to that?" 

"Sure.  You don't have to do anything.  Let me turn all of your notifications off so you're not bugged by it.  You'll probably have another couple hundred thousand followers by the end of the day."  She takes Harry's phone and changes some of the settings on it, then hands it back to him.

"Thanks."  Harry mumbles.  "That all for today then?"

"Yes."  Sarah hums.  "You did very well.  I give you an A plus."

Harry grins, trying not to show how much he actually loves the praise.  "Have a good day then."

"You too Haz!  Ta dear."  Sarah says.

Harry cocks his head at the odd nickname, but doesn't say anything about it.  He likes Sarah a lot and hopes he gets to keep working with her.  She has seemed the most relaxed out of anyone he's met here so far.

Harry takes lunch in his rusted, red pickup truck in the parking garage like he does every day before his run; puts his Tim McGraw CD and pulls out his lunch sack filled with a sandwich and giant carton of raspberries.

He smiles when the first raspberry hits his tongue.  He's always loved the acidic burn after eating too many in succession and can't help to eat too many every time. 

Halfway through his lunch though, he sees a blob approaching his truck.  When he turns to see who is approaching in the normally vacant parking garage, he sees Candi approaching.  She's wearing a black pencil skirt and silk red blouse that opens low enough to show her massive cleavage.  Red lipstick and curly platinum blonde hair; she reminds Harry an awful lot of Dolly Parton.

She raps her nails against Harry's window.  Harry's anxiety spikes through the roof and he wishes he could pull the tarp up from the backseat and hide under it.  Since she's already seen him though, he figures he has to talk to her.  At the party, he was lucky enough to have Cecelia to save him from conversing with her, but out here, it's just Harry.

He turns down his music with shaky fingers and rolls his manual window down- not wanting to open the door and relinquish his barrier between him and her.

"Hey darlin', you're lookin' fine today."  She winks at him.

Harry needs some time to think of a response, so he wipes some mustard from the corner of his lips and is about to wipe it off on his pants, when he realizes he's not wearing his Wranglers.  He leans over to wipe it on the passenger seat instead, then turns back to her.

Compliments, Cecelia had said.  Smother them in compliments.

"Oh thanks.  Your hair is nice."  Harry says and wonders how much older than him she is. 

"You know, it looks better when it's all messed up?"  Candi folds her arms on the window jamb and rests her boobs on top of them.

Harry's eyes widen, but he refuses- _refuses_ \- to pay attention to where she's drawing it.  "I think it looks nice how it is." 

"You know, I'm from your neck of the woods too?"  She tries to go for a Southern accent and that at least makes Harry smile a little.

"What part?"  He humors her.

"From Tennessee actually.  Grew up in Nashville.  Always wanted to be a singer, you know?"  Candi says dreamily.

Harry wonders if her need to emphasize whether Harry knows or not is to hear herself be rhetorical or if she actually wants Harry to validate each thing she says.

At least she's not talking about anything that could get Harry into trouble anymore.  If Louis were here, he wonders what he would want Harry to say back.  He decides to try and be conversational about it.

"My best friends and I went there for a concert once.  It's a nice city."  Harry says, reflexively gripping the last half of his sandwich that he's eager to eat.

"Bet all your friends are just as cute as you, aren't they?"  She looks up and down Harry's chest.  "Strong and handsome..."

Now that she's back to hitting on him, Harry feels infinitely guilty.  Like if Louis were here, he would be disappointed.  Harry panics in grasping for how he's supposed to dismiss her.  He _needs_ to talk with Cecelia about this during their next meeting. 

"Eherm, yeah."  He prays for deliverance in any form.

Candi purses her lips at him, then leans back.  "Well, I'll leave you to your lunch sweetie.  Can't wait to see more of you around."  She gives him a wink and then walks away.

Harry rolls up his window, creating a barrier between him and the outside world again.  His veins thrum with _guilt, guilt, guilt_ because he should have handled that differently, he just doesn't know _how_.

But he knows Louis would have known how.  Louis wouldn't have let the conversation happen in the first place.  Louis would have been the epitome of control.  Everything that Harry is not.

He wishes more than anything that Louis were here to punish him for being so incompetent and letting people hit on him. 

He finishes his lunch quickly so he can go for his run.  He tries not think about how much he hated Candi calling him 'sweetie', but loved when Louis did.  Tries not to pine for the man he is obsessed with. 

~~~

L

It's the last week of October, and Louis is praising all the gods because that means the stupid fucking Halloween décor will be out of the office and he won't be seeing it for another year.

Niall walks into his office and he's got some fake, cottony spider webs hanging from his eyeglasses, and Louis thinks he'll just let it stay there because it makes him smirk on the inside.

"You know you're _supposed_ to knock?"  Louis says boredly.

"You know you're _supposed_ to not be an obnoxious twat?"  Niall sits on the backless chair on the other side of Louis' sharp desk.

"What are you here to bother me with this time?"  Louis reaches down to get a water bottle and pass it to Niall.

"Firstly, congrats on the secret love affair you have going with Harry.  The media has already created a hundred stories on how and why it happened."  Niall uncaps the water bottle and chugs part of it down.

"Oh good!"  Louis claps his hands together.  "This is the most exciting thing to happen to me since Channing Tatum responded to my tweet about Magic Mike.  We were in a secret love affair for almost a year after that."

"I really don't understand how the media doesn't get you.  You're the most obvious person in the world and have publicly let everyone know when you're dating someone."  Niall crosses his legs.  "Idiots."

"A scandal is so much more exciting than saying, 'I'm in a committed relationship with a great guy' because that's just no fun."  Louis waves off.

Niall is silent for a beat too long, then says, "I came over as soon as I found out..."

"Found out what?"  Louis snaps, alarms going off because nothing is supposed to be 'found out' that Louis hasn't skillfully planned.

Niall sighs.  "Well, it was kept on the down low between Harry and Desmond.  They apparently have been working the contracts since Saturday, and I didn't find out till this morning-"

"God's sakes, spit it the fuck out."  Louis demands.

"Roots stole your acquisition of Vander Tech."  Niall adjusts his glasses.

Louis raises his eyebrows.  "Excuse me?"

"Like I said, they didn't tell anyone till this morning.  Apparently it was Harry's idea.  Desmond got it approved with the legal team and they worked a deal with Vander Tech over the weekend.  There's a clause that says they have the right to choose to be bought out by a different company, so-"

"I know what was in the god damned contract!"  Louis snaps.  "When the fuck did you think it would be pertinent to share this information with me?"

"Louis, you idiot, I'm telling you right now!  Stop talking to me and sic your lawyers on their asses.  I can't do anything more for you, I'm sorry."  Niall apologizes.

"Fuck."  Louis pushes his thumbs and forefingers to his temples.  "You said _Harry_ suggested it?  How did he even know about the acquisition?"

"Apparently Liam said something to him about it."  Niall pulls out his Roots phone to do something on it.

"Jesus Christ- _Liam?_ \- I knew he was a mother fucker from the beginning.  I'm setting my lawyers on him too."  Louis types an email to his legal team.

"Desmond was rather proud of Harry for the idea.  He was saying something about them taking back the game in innovation after your rude insinuations at their party and establishing integrity with the public, putting you in a bad light."  Niall tosses his empty water bottle into the trash can behind Louis' desk.

"Damn it.  Of course he was."  Louis mutters as he finishes up the email.  "Is that what this was about then?  Trying to please daddy?"

Niall gives him a look before sitting down on the chair again.  "I think it partly was, but I did hear a rumor from Liam..."

Louis gives him a deadpan look, not even bothering to tell Niall to keep speaking.

"Like I said, I think it's only a _rumor,_ but apparently Harry said something about wanting to piss you off."  Niall adjusts his glasses again.

Louis' lip twitches and he blinks at Niall. 

Niall speaks again.  "Don't ask me to repeat myself, I swear to God-"

Louis smiles this time.  "All rumors come from somewhere, don't they?"

"Wait- what?"  Niall quirks an eyebrow at him.

Louis bites back a smirk and adjusts his cufflinks.  "Interesting move, is all I'm saying."

"You mean-" Niall gives him a suspicious look, "you think?"

"You know what went down in the bathroom at the company party both times; and in between tweeting me shirtless pictures of himself, I think this is a pretty obvious move on his part."  Louis traces the lines of his lips with his index finger.

"God, the media is going to have a hey-day when they find out.  The stock holders-" Niall moans, " _Desmond_ will _kill_ Harry.  He's not formally out to his father yet."

" _Your_ stocks will plummet.  _Mine_ will spike.  They know I'll get what I can from Roots and don't care who I have to hurt to get it."  Louis states.

"So you're going to lead Harry on and use him as media fodder so you can finally be named the number one tech company in the world then toss him to the wolves once you've stolen the title?"  Niall summarizes.

"Not at all.  I'm just saying that will inevitably happen regardless.  Whether or not Harry can handle it is his problem."  Louis says.  "I'm not going to 'lead him on' because I actually like the guy.  Nor would I toss him to the wolves at the end of the day- he'll do that to himself.  Nobody stays with me, remember?" 

"I wouldn't bet on it.  Harry _gets_ it, you have to realize.  He's in business too.  He's not some twink that is looking for some fictional 50 Shades of Grey shit.  He knows you have to choose your business first.  His dad has been the prime example of him for that."  Niall says.  "He's not coming after you because of your wealth or status.  He's coming after you purely because he wants one more person in his life causing him unbearable pain."

"I don't think that's the specific case with Harry though."  Louis hums.  "He definitely doesn't seem like the typical submissive masochist."

"I don't care about the semantics and I _really_ don't want to know.  I'm just saying there's a high chance of things getting deeper than you think if you're not careful."  Niall warns.

"All the better for me.  Been a while since I've had anything other than a fling."  Louis feels warm at the thought already. 

Maybe Harry will be the one that Louis can finally get into scenes with.  Louis could watch as he eases Harry into subspace; hold him as he comes down from it.  Harry could look at Louis as if he is the Master of his universe.  Harry could be his baby and Louis would be his Daddy. 

Louis lets a small moan die in the back of his throat. 

"Let me know how that works out for you.  In the meantime, you've got a shit ton on your plate with what this means for your company now that you won't have Vander Tech."  Niall breaks him from his reverie.

Louis sighs because work always calls, but he loves it.  "Watch out for my farmer then.  Don't want anyone else taking advantage of him."

"Of course.  Only you get to do that."  Niall rolls his eyes.

"Mmhmm."  Louis strokes his smooth skin that shows off his sharp facial features.  "By the way, are we still on for Broadway this Saturday?"

"Obviously.  Are we dressing up?"  Niall asks.

"Obviously."  Louis chuckles. 

"Great.  Hope I don't have to see you until then."  Niall gets up from the seat and activates the Newton's Cradle on Louis' desk before leaving.

Louis listens to the balls clink together as he formulates a plan.

~~~


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Dedicated to Elle for wanting to leave kudos on every chapter- you made me cry happy tears :')

Thank you so much to everyone for the amazing response to this story!! Your excitement tickles me to pieces ^_^               

-Dannie

~~~

H

It's Monday afternoon when Harry _finally_ gets some kind of reaction from Louis.  Niall has been gone all afternoon, so Harry has been sitting at his desk poking around at different balance sheets. 

He's read all of his leadership and public speaking books that were assigned by Lenny and Pablo for the week.  He's also already read the stack of magazines that Cecelia gave him on fashion and the latest celebrity gossip- a few parts of which, ironically, are about himself and Louis.

So after he's exhausted all his productive outlets, he goes on Twitter. 

Sarah was right in that he had gained thousands of followers in the short time period.  He also has a blue check mark by his profile now, which means he is 'official.'  He smiles to himself at the thought.

He sees a notification in a place there hasn't been one before though, and clicks on the tab.  The top of the screen reads **Messages** and right below it is Louis' Twitter profile picture, his name, the preview of a message, and a small indicator in the top corner that the message was sent 5 minutes ago.

He opens it with a rapid heartrate wondering if Louis has found out about the stolen acquisition of Vander Tech yet.

**Are you or your team on Twitter at the moment?**

Harry looks around to see that nobody is nearby him.  Niall's office is set in the back corner of the same floor his dad's office is on, so there isn't anybody walking by either.

He types a response back to Louis.

**I am now... Why?**

Harry wonders if Louis is still on Twitter or not and wonders how long he can stare at his phone until it's considered abnormal.

Luckily he's graced with a short waiting period, as Louis has just messaged him back.

**Send me your mobile number, then delete our conversation immediately after.**

Harry does as instructed without any questions asked, then waits.  His heart pounds out of his ears again because what if Louis just calls Harry and chews him out over the phone?  It's not that Harry wouldn't love that, because he _would_ , but that would just mean he'd have to think of something more drastic to get Louis to physically come after him because he would love that even _more._

He stares at his now empty Twitter inbox and scrolls down through his notifications until he finds the one that shows exactly when Louis started following him 12 minutes ago.  Harry is stupidly satisfied about it.

His phone lights up with a message from an unrecognizable number, so he closes out of Twitter as quickly as possible and mashes his Messages app a dozen times to try and get it to open quicker.

**We need to talk. I'm open tomorrow at evening 6:30 or Thursday at 7pm.**

Harry's palms instantly break out into a sweat along with his underarms.  He takes a few erratic breaths because Louis _knows._ He _knows_ and he's going to punish Harry for it.  Neither options are within normal work hours either. 

Harry wonders where they'll be meeting.  Maybe he'll get to see Louis' office.  Maybe Louis will take him to a hotel.  Maybe Louis wants to come and give him punishment in his own house.

Harry shudders and walks across the hall to knock on his dad's office door.

"Come in."  Desmond says from the other side.

"Tomorrow, can I get off at five?"  Harry asks as nonchalantly as possible.

Desmond doesn't break his stare from Harry.  "Why?"

"Um.  Business things.  Louis wants to talk to me."  Harry says.

"What business does Louis have with you?"  Desmond asks just a hint too defensively.

"Dunno.  Maybe 'bout the Vander Tech thing."  Harry shrugs.  He thinks he's not wrong.  Just, there won't be _talking_ about his actions... just punishment for them.

"You have no reason to speak with him about the transaction.  In fact, I forbid you to do so."  Desmond says sternly.

"Kay, I won't talk to him about it."  Harry holds his hands up in defense.  He can promise that he won't talk about it.

"Then you have no business with talking to him."  Desmond states.

Shit.  Harry tries not to panic, but it's hard not to when he feels backed into a corner by his father.  He thinks of another reason Louis could have to talk to him and keeps coming up with blanks until- "Um, maybe he wants to apologize to me for the other night?"

Desmond shakes his head.  "Louis Tomlinson does not apologize for his actions.  Ever."

"You don't know that!  _Stop_ pre-judging him!"  Harry yells.

It's eerily silent, and that's when Harry realizes he's just yelled at his father.

"Shit- sorry..."  Harry's chest heaves up and down with the unanticipated release of anger.

"How many more times do you need to be burned before you trust me?"  Desmond asks.

It wouldn't matter because Harry will always trust Louis more than Desmond.  Louis has _done_ more for Harry than his own father in the 25 years of his life.  The two times Louis has been there for Harry have been monumentally more important and meaningful than anything his father could ever hope to do.

"Just... let me figure some things out for myself.  I ain't gonna talk to him about business, I promise."  Harry says, not backing down.

Desmond shakes his head.  "You're not prepared for any kind of private- _or public­_ \- interaction with Louis again.  Son, he-"

" _Don't_ -" Harry raises his voice to interrupt, "call me son." 

It's one of the very few things that Harry will stand up for, and Desmond be damned if he thinks he can call Harry his son.

Desmond sighs.  " _Harry_... I fear for you... as more than just your boss.  You don't know what he's capable of."

 _That_ sends the tingle up Harry's spine that he craves from Louis because _no_ , he doesn't know what Louis is capable of and it's an echo of Louis' words from the other night.  He ignores the feeling though because it's not the right time for that.

"You ain't never worried about me like that before, so don't bother starting now."  Harry mumbles.

Desmond rubs his forehead with his thumb and index finger.  "You can get off tomorrow at 5.  I expect you in the office early the following day to make up for missed work."

"Thank you."  Harry looks down at his feet, then turns to leave his father's too-cluttered, too-fake-wood-filled office.

"Harry."  Desmond calls from behind him.

Harry swivels back around.  "What?"

"Make sure he's not recording you."  Desmond advises.

Harry nods.  "Thanks."

He retreats back to the safety of Niall's office, but when he rounds the corner he sees Niall back in his seat and yelps out in surprise.  Niall does the same and gasps at Harry's sudden entrance.

"Jesus Harry.  Scared me."  Niall holds a hand to his heart.

"Fuck, sorry.  Thought you was still gone."  Harry takes the seat across from Niall's desk.

"Nope."  Niall says simply, then pulls out his phone to busy himself with something.

Harry does the same, and texts Louis back.

**6:30 tomorrow works for me... Where do you want to meet?**

He pockets his phone while he waits for a reply and watches Niall silently, waiting for him to break from what he's doing. 

Except, he gets a text back from Louis before he gets Niall's attention.  He opens it.

**My house.**

His address is attached and Harry feels giddy as he opens it in his maps app and sees that Louis only lives a few blocks from him.

He wonders if he should ask for more specific instructions... like if he should bring anything or wear anything specific.  But decides that would be weird.  So he doesn't.  He just sends a simple affirmation back and pockets his phone next to his trembling thigh again.

"N-Niall?"  Harry clears his throat.

Niall types away on his phone and doesn't look up.  "Hmm?"

"Do you know why my father don't like Louis?"  Harry asks.

Niall's eyes slowly lift at that, sizing up Harry.  "Your dad and him have a long track record of very competitive business.  It's only natural he's developed a distaste for Louis.  Most people do if you know him longer than five minutes." 

"Does Louis dislike my dad?"  Harry asks, feeling small.

Niall's face doesn't give anything away, but Harry can see that there's something he isn't showing.  "Louis respects Desmond."

"But my dad don't respect Louis?"  Harry asks.

Niall clicks his phone into sleep mode and sets it on the desk.  "Harry, Louis is the polar opposite of your father in every way possible.  Desmond doesn't respect CEO's who treat their employees like shit, don't respect integrity, are more concerned with their self-appearance than their company's success, and are openly gay."

Harry shakes his head.  "They're the same.  My dad treats me like shit.  He just acts like he cares about everyone, but he don't.  The Vander Tech acquisition was completely unethical but he done it anyway.  Louis didn't use to care about his self-appearance.  He ain't really like that, or at least he didn't use to be.  And he cares about the success of his company- anyone can see that."

Niall looks off-handed for a moment before composing himself again.  "The latter half of your points are mere speculation.  One would have to know Louis to know those things.  Which, neither of us do.  So it's only fair to base our judgements on what the media says.  Furthermore, Desmond will never respect the LGBT community, and that's something Louis is fiercely passionate about."

"So my dad don't respect Cecelia then?"  Harry asks, feeling horrible for outing her, but needing to in order to defend Louis.

"What?"  Niall furrows his eyebrows and fixes his glasses.

"Cecelia is gay.  So why's it okay that he respects her but not Louis for the same thing?"  Harry pushes.

"Cece- _how_ do you know that?  Did she say something to you?"  Niall asks, completely perplexed.

Harry shrugs.  "Just saying.  It ain't fair that he discriminates against someone so similar to himself and then has a double standard."

Niall blinks.  "You should stay away from Louis."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?  _You're_ the one who introduced us."  Harry points out.

"I thought- he just-" Niall purses his lips.  "You're new here Harry.  It's better to learn from watching others fail than experiencing failure yourself."

"I'm asupposed to watch him fail with his company?"  Harry asks, confused.

"No, I'm not talking about his _company_.  You're just too- too naïve to get involved in the likes of Louis."  Niall states.

Harry huffs.  "I _ain't_ naïve."

Niall scoffs.  "God, no, not like that.  I know _too_ much about that.  I just mean you don't understand New York.  You don't understand Louis."

"You keep saying that like you do."  Harry says.

Niall shakes his head and picks his phone back up.  "I need to get back to work."

Harry gets up and leaves Niall to his work, wondering what the hell the conversation they just had was. 

Did Niall say he knew 'too much about that'?  What was he referring to? 

Harry wonders why he feels suddenly so suspicious of Niall, but pushes the feeling in his gut aside because he is Desmond's right-hand-man and trusts Niall with his company.

The rest of the day passes too slowly, and when Harry gets home, he sleeps restlessly.  He wakes up in the middle of the night to call Mona, but she doesn't answer.  He knows it's because she's sleeping because she's probably getting up before sunrise like every other morning.  He still feels horrible for not being able to say goodbye to her, even though she has reassured him that it's fine and just his 'asshole father's fault'.

He gets homesick thinking about it.  All the early mornings with Grady and Mona and them helping each other with farm and ranch work.  Harry misses it.  He misses the hard work and the sweat and the carefree simplicity of it all. 

He thinks he might get some AstroTurf to lay down for his doormat.

His penthouse has thus far stayed how it was when he moved in.  It hasn't felt like his home at all.  It's like he's been on extended vacation in New Orleans that one time he, Grady, and Mona splurged and stayed in a nice hotel for Mardi Gras. 

Except there's no Grady and there's no Mona.

It's just Harry and his empty penthouse.  The place he lives in that he isn't even sure he owns or rents or leases.  His dad said everything was taken care of and handed him a credit card for any and all living expenses.  Harry asked what the credit limit on the card was, and Desmond said Harry couldn't reach it if he tried.

So Harry's fridge is filled with iced teas and meat and his pantry is full of ingredients for grits and biscuits.  The comforter that came on his bed is now rumpled in the back corner of his walk in closet because it's too hot anyway and he sleeps with his tattered woolen quilt that reminds him of Rover instead.

Harry pushes the quilt to the side to get up and unhinge his door in the moonlight.  He puts the door in the spare bedroom, then goes back into his own, deciding on purchasing a slab of plywood from the store too.

He finally falls asleep.

~~~

/Sneak peak for the update next Friday/ ;)

Louis stays very still in his position. It takes everything in him not to pounce at Harry like a lion. "You didn't answer my question. I asked what you wanted. Not what you thought."

Louis expects a silence. Maybe for Harry to shut down and stop talking altogether. However, quite the opposite happens.

"I want to be punished for my actions." Harry's voice cracks a little, but he says it with surprising confidence.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I have to say I am floored with the love, support, and anxiety from you guys due to my absence last Friday. I'm so sorry for leaving you hanging. I was filming for a television show all weekend and flew out to Puerto Rico shortly after that was finished and have not had ample time to sit down and get these updates out for you. Please accept my double update today, and regular update tomorrow as my apology. Also, thank you to everyone leaving kudos, comments, and recommending this fic to your friends!! Love you guys so much!!

Any/all kinks etc. are spelled out later in the chapter for you guys. If it drives you crazy not knowing the second you read it, Google is your friend ;)

Twitter: [@dannieybarra](http://www.twitter.com/dannieybarra) [@LemonSuccubus](http://www.twitter.com/lemonsuccubus)

-Dannie :)

 

~~~

L

It's 6:24pm when his doorbell rings.

Louis smiles to himself and regroups his face before walking to the door and opening it to reveal Harry Styles, dressed head to toe in silky, earth-toned, Burberry. Except-

"Good fucking hell! What are you wearing? Get in here- did people _see_ you? Jesus-" Louis grabs Harry by the arm and pulls him into his house. "Take off your shoes and that jacket, then go sit down at the kitchen table." Louis points to his open living room with two long and low to the ground white sofas.

Harry's eyes widen as he takes in the appearance of Louis' penthouse. Louis leaves him gaping in the entry way while he jogs into his home office to find his seam ripper. He shuffles through his desk and finds it, then hurries back to his living room.

Harry's left his loafers by the door and is sitting with his suit jacket rumpled up in his lap on Louis' backless kitchen chair.

Louis groans. "God, _give me that_ before you destroy it."

"Sorry." Harry mumbles.

Louis shakes off the apology because they're not there yet. Fashion comes first. "Okay, see this, _right here_?" Louis holds up the left sleeve of the jacket.

Harry nods.

"This is a label. You take this _off._ Jesus Christ." Louis carefully threads the seam ripper between the suit fabric and the label stitching.

"Ain't that the point?" Harry asks in almost a whisper.

"What?" Louis asks as he unstitches the second corner.

"To wear a label? So people know what I'm wearin'?" He asks, pulling at the ends of his curls.

Louis pauses what he's doing to furrow his eyebrows at Harry. "No. It's tacky and embarrassing."

"Oh." Harry blushes.

"This probably means you didn't unstitch the vents either did you?" Louis hums as he finishes unpicking the label, then shifts the garment to the back.

"What?" Harry squeaks.

"These get unpicked too. They're only there to hold the form of the jacket until it gets bought." Louis shows him where the back flaps have been temporarily stitched together.

"Oh... Sorry." Harry has three ringlets wrapped around his large index finger now.

After the vents are open, he moves to the pockets that are, predictably, still sewn shut. "These as well. Just don't put anything too heavy in them." Louis focuses on his task at hand.

Harry doesn't say anything.

Louis sighs after he's finished fixing Harry's suit. "Also, this is a _six_ button, _double-_ breasted suit jacket with _peak_ lapels. Do you know what that means?"

Harry shakes his head.

"It means this jacket is probably the most formal garment you own. It means you only wear this to white-tie events. Unless you were meeting with the President of the United States during your board meetings today, it's much too dressy." Louis stands up to hang it on a velvet hanger in his coat closet. "I have some extra slippers here, would you care for them?"

"Umm... no?" Harry bites at his bottom lip.

"The correct answer is yes." Louis grabs the spare set from the closet and brings them to Harry. "Speaking of footwear, loafers are too casual for your position as a CEO of a Wall Street, Fortune 4 company."

"What do I wear then?" Harry grins sheepishly.

"You wear Oxfords." Louis blinks at Harry. "Or fuck it. You're a cowboy or something. Wear Brogue Boots or Chelsea Boots."

Harry nods like it's paramount information. Which it is. He should make Harry pay him for his personalized fashion mentoring.

Louis pushes the slippers towards Harry, takes a seat on the armchair, and crosses his legs.

Harry bends down to put the slippers on his socked feet and then sits up a little straighter. "Are you recording me?"

Louis lifts an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Like, recording our conversation with like, a device of some sort?" Harry tries to explain even though he doesn't really know what he's asking or why.

So Louis calls him on it. "Why would I do that Harry?"

Harry's mouth opens like he knows the answer, but then he's silent for a beat too long. "To use things against me in court."

Louis nods thoughtfully. "You know it's illegal to record- vocal or otherwise- persons without expressed consent from both parties?"

Harry nods.

"So. You're asking me if I'm illegally recording you right now?" Louis reiterates.

Harry doesn't answer and looks down at his lap.

"Sorry, didn't catch that. Did you say you were or were not accusing me of illicit activities?" Louis pushes.

Harry shakes his head and speaks barely above a whisper. "Sorry."

"I find it odd that _you_ would be the one to accuse me, seeing as you're the one with the recent track record of unethical business acquisitions." Louis baits.

 _That_ gets Harry to look up at him with- hope?- in his eyes. "Is that why you wanted me to come over tonight?"

Louis purses his lips, wanting to see where Harry truly wants to take this. "What do you think?"

"I think it was really wrong of me- I fucked you over. I'm sorry. I shouldn'ta done it, but I did." Harry rushes out, sitting up a little straighter.

"And what do you suggest we do about it?" Louis keeps his voice steady.

"I'll do anything you ask. I swear." Harry offers, even though Louis' question wasn't meant to be a threat.

"Anything?" Louis muses.

Harry goes pink, but nods.

"That encompasses an awful lot, don't you think?" Louis asks, rhetorically.

Harry nods, tugging on the ends of his unkempt curls to where they're so taut that they don't look like spirals anymore.

"We should probably talk through some of those things first so that we're on the same page as each other. It would only be wise." Louis unfolds his legs and leans forward on them.

Harry agrees again.

"I'm going to need you to talk- and be honest when you do so- if we're to have this conversation." Louis looks at Harry expectantly. He looks so earthy in contrast to his monochromatic living room and kitchen.

Harry clears his throat. "Okay."

"Better." Louis smiles thinly. "So. Honestly. What is it you want from me?"

Harry's pink cheeks go to scarlet. "Um, I- I think I deserve to be punished for my actions." His voice gets diminishingly smaller at the end.

Louis stays very still in his position. It takes everything in him not to pounce at Harry like a lion. "You didn't answer my question. I asked what you wanted. Not what you thought."

Louis expects a silence. Maybe for Harry to shut down and stop talking altogether. However, quite the opposite happens.

"I want to be punished for my actions." Harry's voice cracks a little, but he says it with surprising confidence.

"Are you used to being punished when you do bad things?" Louis asks as a roundabout way to see if Harry has been in any formal type of BDSM relationship.

Curls released from his finger, Harry fiddles with his visibly sweaty palms. "I did bad things all the time 'n my friend punished me for it."

Louis connects a few dots that he wishes weren't connected. "Is this the same friend who is homophobic?"

Harry nods.

God, _anything_ but homophobia. Homophobia is the bane of Louis' existence and was the dissolution to one of his very long-lasting relationships. Anyone who is with a homophobic partner subconsciously internalizes it to some degree. It's why Harry denied being gay the first time they met.

Louis doesn't need to ask what it's done to Harry's psyche because he can see it written all over his face and in his actions. It's why Harry sought to manipulate Louis by stealing his acquisition. Harry doesn't have the ability or self-confidence to walk up to Louis and shoot straight with him because he obviously never was allowed that with his friend.

"Tell me the kinds of things he would punish you for and how he punished you." Louis dives in head first because the quicker they rip off the band-aide, the quicker Louis can know what exactly he'll be working with.

"For anything stupid or gay that I did. Or if I was too lazy or too worthless too. He'd mostly punch me or choke me or fuck me really hard and remind me of how worthless I am." Harry rubs at his cheekbones like he's trying to cover his face up with his hands.

Louis is very practiced at keeping his emotions off his face, which is the only reason he doesn't look like he might spontaneously go bomb the backwoods of Kentucky. "And is that what you're looking for from me?"

Harry eyes dart from side to side for an answer. "Um... I think so."

Louis bites at the tip of his tongue before speaking. "Harry, I'm not what you're looking for if that's the case. I do not approve of abuse whether it be verbal, physical, mental, sexual, or emotional. Nor am I comfortable emulating such a scene- _especially_ with someone who has a recent past with it. Had I known all this earlier, I would have treated our other encounters differently."

Harry's eyes go a little glossy and he fidgets a little more. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize, we're just talking." Louis reminds him gently. "Here, why don't I get you some water?"

Harry nods.

Louis gets up and stretches out the tenseness when he pulls a bottle of water from his refrigerator. When he returns, opts for standing next to Harry, leaning against the table, and hands him the bottle.

Harry takes a couple drinks, then caps the bottle, not minding to wipe off the water droplets that adorn the top of his lip. "Um, I trust you. Like, I like you- I like bein' around you... I feel safe when I'm with you. And I just thought that maybe you wanted..."

Fuck. Louis just-

His heart won't calm down is the thing.

And Harry's eyes are still faintly glossy and his cheeks are a little pink from emotion and there are tiny water droplets on his cupid's bow.

Louis instinctively reaches a hand up to Harry's face- he doesn't flinch this time- and Louis uses the pad of his thumb to wipe way the remaining water. Harry's mouth barely parts open and his eyelids go droopy and the atmosphere feels _so_ thick that he thinks the only way for him to get oxygen is straight from Harry's lungs.

Just a kiss. Just a kiss because nothing else will work with Harry's situation. Just a kiss because there is too much mutual desire for him to _not_ kiss Harry.

Louis lets his thumb slide to the corner of Harry's lips and replaces its previous spot with his lips. Harry's are large and wet and he lets out a high-pitched sigh of relief. The reaction makes Louis' blood simmer a little hotter and he presses his thin lips a little firmer against Harry's full ones.

They move together slowly and Louis feels it when Harry all but _melts_ into the palm of his hand. And _God._ This kiss. It feels like one from what Louis should have experienced in high school or maybe with his first crush or something, but definitely not one from the CEO's son of his competitor's company.

 _Fuck_. The CEO's son of his competitor's company. This is a _huge_ conflict of interest. This is a fucking terrible idea. Louis lets his hand fall from Harry's cheek, but before he can part lips, Harry's grabbing his hand and mumbling against his lips.

"Please. Please no. I'll let you do anything. Please don't stop." He squeezes Louis' hand tightly with his own.

"Damn it." Louis growls before pulling Harry from the kitchen, then pushing him over the side of the couch and tangling one hand in his gloriously unkempt curls and the other caressing his cheek again.

Harry leans up to kiss Louis again and Louis meets him halfway. This time their lips part open and Louis' tongue immediately enters Harry's mouth and he tastes like sweet grass. Like tea or something, and Louis wants it all.

Harry pushes back experimentally with his tongue and simultaneously lifts his hips up to meet Louis'. Louis' knee-jerk reaction would be to punish him, but Harry's not his God-damned submissive and he will _not_ abuse him.

"Fuck." Louis mutters into Harry's mouth.

"Please. I'm sorry. _Please_ just once- I deserve it." Harry goes back to begging his case.

Louis could go the easy route of orgasm denial like he did last time, but the logical part of Louis' brain tells him that it will only put them in a never ending circle of whatever this is they're both trying to accomplish. Harry will come back for more; Louis will give more; like an inevitable law of nature.

And that's when he thinks of it.

Psychology. It all boils down to psychology. Harry is simply a head case. Homophobia is in the head. Abuse is perceived in the head. Harry could technically consider it more abusive that Louis is denying him rather than giving him what he wants; and that would be counterproductive to the whole purpose of this anyway.

But he doesn't want to hurt Harry how his friend did. It has to be different. Different than demeaning names, choking-

"Spanking." Louis breathes against Harry's lips. "Did he ever give you spankings?"

Harry mumbles a negatory into Louis' mouth.

"Thank the fucking Lord." Louis sits up and gets off of him. "I can give you 15 spanks to your ass as punishment. Do you want that?"

Harry's pupils go wide and he nods.

"Speak. I need you to be honest and say yes or no." Louis unbuttons his cufflinks to roll up his sleeves.

"Yes- _yes_. Spank me please." Harry sits up so straight that it reminds Louis how much taller he is than himself.

"Pull your pants down and on all fours, bend over the arm of the sofa." Louis pushes aside the butterflies and giddiness to get into his Dominant mindset.

Harry stands up and pulls his pants down so quickly that the clasps pop off the front and Louis almost yells at him for it but doesn't because even though fashion always comes first, there's other things that actually come before it when the time calls.

Harry's kicked off his underwear, trousers, and slippers and he's in nothing but his silky green shirt and tan socks and Louis loves the sight of his ass when he pops it in the air.

"If you want me to stop at any time, I will stop and I won't be mad. Do you swear you will tell me if you want me to stop?" Louis gets on the couch behind him, mentally reprimanding himself for not going through coloring with Harry first, but not having a whole lot of options at the moment.

"I swear." Harry drops his head downward and his curls all cascade upside down.

It's only 15- which is hardly a number in Louis' book- but he's not sure of Harry's pain and pleasure thresh holds.

Louis lands the first spank of hardly a medium strength on one of his ass cheeks, and Harry yelps out. Louis wonders if it just took him by surprise. "I want you to count. That was number one."

The mop of curls bobs up and down from over the arm of the couch, and Louis lands the second slap next to the other light pink handprint. Harry yelps out again.

"Two." Comes strained from Harry's end of the couch.

By the ninth spank, Harry's bum is starting to glow all over with heat and a light pink and his voice becomes rather gritty.

Louis needs to ask what his color is because Harry is sounding very much like this is not enjoyable for him. A casual 'how are you doing' would not only sound absurd, but also give him an inaccurate response. It's really throwing off Louis' mojo.

"I'm only going to 12, then your punishment is ending." Louis decides.

Harry tries protesting. "No, please-"

"It wasn't a question." Louis clips. "And they're going to hurt worse."

There's an uneven exhale of breath on Harry's end, and when Louis lands the next slaps, he makes sure to put just a little more sting into them- knowing that most of the pain will be coming from Harry's already sensitive nerves rather than the pressure of his actions anyway.

Harry's hips buck forward as he counts to the final number, and fuck, the _things_ Louis wants to do to his ass.

"Don't move from your position. I'll be right back." Louis leaves Harry still bent over the arm of the sofa in search of his cooling balm.

He's back out seconds later and Harry has stayed as still as a statue. Louis rubs the balm into his pink bum, then gives the side of his hips a light tap to signal that he's done. "Put your pants back on."

Harry nods and does as instructed.

Louis sits on the sofa and pats his lap. "Come lay on your side."

Harry climbs back onto the couch and rests his head in Louis' lap, looking up at him with completely open and glassy eyes.

"Tell me how you're feeling." Louis says gently and runs his hands through Harry's curls.

Harry's eyes flutter down to where Louis' belly button would be. "Better. A lot better."

"Mind telling me why that is? I have a strong hunch you're not a masochist, so I'm a little unsure what you got from all that." Louis says.

"Um." Harry says breathily. "Just like, the punishment. Like, I can let it go now. I atoned for my wrongdoings."

"So you don't enjoy the pain, per say?" Louis asks.

"No. But I deserve it." Harry says.

"Okay..." Louis understands, except it's a lot different than any other sub he's had. It's always been about the masochism for them.

"Thank you." Harry looks up to Louis with big eyes.

"You're welcome." Louis runs his fingers through his soft hair. "You feel like you've paid the price for all your wrongdoings then?"

Harry nods into his lap.

Louis mindlessly strokes Harry's hair, thinking about what this means. He knows that Harry has done things on purpose to get punishments. Which leads him to his next question. "Why do you do things that you know will end in a punishment? You didn't have to steal Vander Tech from me, but you did. Why?"

"Um." Harry's eyes flutter shut. "I just don't like handling my own emotions. I like trusting someone else to control them I guess. And when that's not happening, I do things to make them want to control them."

Louis nods, but stays silent.

"I like you Louis." Harry says again and hooks his index finger into Louis' pant pocket. "You make me feel safe in New York."

Emotions flood through Louis because Harry keeps throwing around words like 'trust' and 'like' and 'control' and he wants to make Harry his forever. Then there's the other side of the coin that made Harry say 'New York' and it makes Louis wonder if he's only relevant to Harry's life while he's here. Until March 26th.

"Do you want to continue spending time together then? Like tonight? Was tonight what you wanted it to be?" Louis asks to make sure.

Harry nods. "Was better. So much better."

Louis hums. He's going to need to do a lot of trial and error with Harry to find his right niche. To find the right way to go about things. The right psychology behind it all.

"Normally there are contracts for these kinds of things." Louis brings up.

Harry's long eyelashes flutter open to look at Louis. "Contracts? For what?"

"Authenticity of relationships that involve physical punishments. You've heard of BDSM, yes?" Louis checks, because Harry is sounding like he's not quite savvy with the culture.

"I mean." Harry drawls. "Rhianna sings about it. There was a book my girl friend read about it. It's like, chains and whips and stuff."

Louis wants to face palm. He doesn't, obviously. But he wants to.

Seeing that Harry is coming down safely though, he lets the softness start to leave his voice, opting for his more dominant one again. "Okay, I'm getting one to go through with you."

Harry cocks his head to the side. "I don't think I should sign anything. I told my father I wouldn't talk about business with you."

Louis grimaces. "It's not a business related contract, Harold- I'll be right back." Louis gets up to leave Harry on the couch and grab a contract from the top drawer of his office desk.

When he returns, Harry is sitting upright. Louis sits next to him and opens the manila folder to pull out the papers, then sets the folder onto the coffee table.

"This is a BDSM contract. It outlines everything for these kinds of relationships." Louis explains.

Harry scooches in closer to look at the paper. "Like what?"

Louis points to the top section. "Well it normally starts with the terms of the contract. Like how long it will be for, whether or not alterations can be made to it, and saying that both parties who sign understand the nature of the contract."

"So you sign on how long your relationship is gonna be?" Harry asks. "You can't see anybody else during that time?"

"Yes to the first. Typically, yes to the second. Depends on the terms. Some doms and subs are okay with it, some are only under certain circumstances, and some aren't okay with it at all." Louis says.

"Doms and subs?" Harry grins nervously. "Like Dominos and Subway?"

Mother Mary. This boy.

"No. Dominants and submissives. I'm a dominant. You're a submissive." Louis states.

"What if I wanted to be dominant?" Harry fidgets with his fingers.

"Then you'd be a swap. But I'm _not_ , so it you'd have to find someone else to dom." Louis says, even though he knows there's a snowball's chance in hell that Harry could be a swap even if he wanted to.

"Oh. Okay." Harry casts his eyes down at the paper again. "What's the next part then?"

"Safety and confidentiality. This." Louis points to a spot on the paper. "This is _really_ important. It's called the coloring system. So just like stoplights, green is go, yellow is slow down, red is stop."

"And what's that for?" Harry looks wide-eyed at Louis.

"Consent." Louis says, dumbfounded.

"What do you mean?" Harry bites his lip.

"To make sure we're both enjoying the scene. To make sure neither one of us traumatizes the other. To make sure it doesn't turn into something emotionally or physically damaging. To make sure it doesn't turn into rape." Louis says passionately.

Harry doesn't say anything.

Louis leans his head back onto the couch.

"Did I say something wrong?" Harry asks meekly.

"No." Louis says banally.

Harry dips his head down to his chest and doesn't say anything after that.

"You know when we were kissing?" Louis lifts his head back up to look at Harry.

Harry nods, looking Louis in the eye again.

"We both wanted it very much. It was extremely enjoyable for both of us. I assume it was like that with your friend as well?" Louis asks, trying to take on a lighter tone.

"He never kissed me." Harry looks longingly at Louis' lips.

Right. Homophobia. Fuck.

"Okay. Well we both very much wanted to kiss each other. That was consensual. That was green. You with me so far?" Louis asks.

"Yeah...?" Harry says like he already understands the concept.

"Then when I spanked you- probably the first five times- you were still green. You felt you deserved it and welcomed the pain. Does that sound right? Tell me if it doesn't. I'm only taking my best guesses here." Louis holds Harry's hand for security.

"Yeah, you're right." Harry confirms softly.

"Okay, then somewhere between five and ten you became a yellow. It became uncomfortable for you and wasn't satisfying your- mental masochism- anymore. It was starting to just hurt. Am I still on the right track?" Louis squeezes his hand.

Harry's pupils dilate as he nods. "How do you know all this?"

"Body language and vocal confirmation. It's why I had you count. Your voice changed when you went from green to yellow. You become more present and self-aware when you get to yellow. You feel physical and mental discomforts or distrust." Louis explains.

"I still trusted you. It was just uncomfortable." Harry admits.

"Okay." Louis lets his voice go stern again. "In the future when I start to see those kinds of signs, I'm going to ask you what your color is, and you have to be honest with me and tell me whether you're at a green or yellow. If you feel like you're at a yellow _before_ I ask, then you have to speak up and say it so that I know to back off and ask what's making you a yellow." He stresses.

"I can do that." Harry nods. "And red means stop?"

"Red means I've crossed a line and you want to completely stop everything that's happening- no questions asked." Louis says simply.

"So what you said earlier- about not being mad if I wanted you to stop- does that apply here?" Harry looks down to their intertwined hands.

"Yes kitten. I will never ever be mad or disappointed with you if you say yellow or red. Do you trust that I won't be?" Louis raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"Yeah. 'S just weird." Harry says, chewing at the corner of his lip again.

"What's weird about it?" Louis pushes.

"I dunno. It's a lot of talking about it." Harry says.

"If you are uncomfortable with talking we can text or email our correspondences." Louis offers.

Harry shakes his head. "Not what I meant. I mean, like, I never talked about all of this afore. We just did what we did."

Louis nods. "It can feel a little different at first because it's a very vulnerable and trusting place to put yourself in. But it sets expectations and boundaries and keeps them perfectly clear and safe."

"So it's like a really defined and controlling relationship?" Harry asks with a hint of too much enthusiasm.

"You can call it what you like. But the difference is that this contract ensures consent on both parties. I'm not looking to take away your rights as a human. That's a different thing entirely." Louis waves his hand in the air, the papers of the contract rustling lightly with the movement.

"Do many people sign these with you?" Harry asks.

"Yes." Louis says vaguely.

"Why?" Harry pulls his hand from Louis' to fold his arms.

Louis slits his eyes at Harry. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me since you're the one considering signing it?"

"I didn't say I was gonna sign it-"

Louis lowers his voice and sits up straighter. "I didn't say you _were_ going to. I said you were _considering_ doing so. Think before you speak; and when you do so, make sure it's not to accuse me of things you know are true." He snaps.

Harry drops his eyes to his lap again. "Sorry."

"Next section." Louis says too firmly. "Limits. You will label these as green, yellow, and red. Things you're okay with, sketchy on, and not okay with."

"I don't have any reds." Harry protests.

"You have reds." Louis shoves the paper full of considerations into his hands. "Let me make it easier and grab you some colored pencils." He stands up to leave for his work desk again and procure them. He walks back to sit by Harry and slams them down on the table. "How many have you found in the last 10 seconds?"

"None in this column." Harry points to it.

"Emetophelia, exhibitionism, candaulism -" Louis reads off a few, "Harry, do you even _know_ what those mean?"

Harry nods. "There was a girl back in school that used to have a fetish for talking about different kinds of kinks. I never had a problem with any she mentioned."

"Okay then. Move to the second column." Louis points to it.

Harry's eyes quickly scan down the list. "Um, okay."

Louis thinks Harry's lack of marking probably has to do with the fact that he hasn't experienced over half of these things. Nearly a BDSM virgin. This is going to take patience. And a lot of control on Louis' portion because he won't take ignorance for consent.

Harry pointedly doesn't mark anything in the category of humiliation, demeaning names, or breath play. Louis decides those are on his mental 'red' list for now regardless of what Harry marks due to his past homophobic partner.

Harry trails to the next column full of mostly impact play. He picks up the yellow pencil.

Louis leans in a little closer.

He underlines 'bull-whip', 'cat of nine tails', and 'riding-crop'.

"Tell me about why you marked those." Louis says, trying not to act like he's overly intrigued.

"Well. I hate bull-whips. I've hit a lot of cows with 'em and I've had friends hit me with 'em and I hated it. Same with riding crops- except that one I accidentally smacked my own knee. It's why I don't break horses anymore. I ain't never seen a cat of nine tails in person, but I heard they got pokey things on them." Harry says with his slight accent.

"If you hated being hit with a bull-whip and riding crop, why did you mark it as yellow and not red?" Louis asks, a little frustrated.

Harry doesn't say anything.

Okay then. So yellows are actually reds. Fantastic.

He wonders how many greens will pop up as yellows once they start playing. He just prays to whatever God is out there that flogging isn't a yellow for Harry. Louis is already about to drag Harry into his scene room and mount him to his X-frame until there are hundreds of welts striping his back.

Louis calms his heartrate and refocuses his attention to their conversation. "What about a cat of nine tails? That's a yellow because it stings?" He rephrases to see what kind of impact will be in and out of the question.

Harry nods. "I saw a picture once and it looked like it had a bunch of chicken beaks on it. I hate getting pecked by chickens."

Louis' eyebrows lift a little at Harry's interpretation of the item and nods. "Underline needle-play in yellow or red as well. Continue then."

Harry does so, and scans through some more and stops to underline 'alcohol and drugs' in yellow. He offers the brief explanation of "I'd rather be healthy."

Louis stops him though when he surpasses bestiality, and points to it with his own finger. "Have you done this before? Have you been tested?" He tries to keep the slight mania out of his voice, hoping that the backwoods Kentucky farmers don't _actually_ live up to that stereotype because bestiality for Louis is a deep, crimson red.

"I've never fucked anything no. There used to be a club in my high school for people who fucked sheep, but I never joined." Harry says easily. "But I've had my hand on more bull cocks and inside more heifer asses than you probably have human ones. If that's what pleases you, then I'm fine with it."

"What?" Louis squints.

"You know. For breeding?" Harry says like it's supposed to explain what he's just said.

"No, I truly have no idea what the fuck you just said. Would you mind repeating it in English please?" Louis requests, scared of what he's about to hear.

Harry holds his hands up to demonstrate. "So, first you gotta spend time opening up the heifer's vagina. A heifer is just a young girl cow. So anyways, you gotta rub her down real good to relax her, then you stick your hand in to feel if her canal is set up right and how long it is. Then you gotta clean out the anus for any feces." He extends an arm out in front of him.

"Oh my God." Louis thinks he might be sick.

"Then once they're nice and relaxed, you have to jack off the bull- or the boy cow- and collect his semen, then one hand goes up the heifer's ass to guide the rod in her vag so you can put the semen right into the uterus."

"That's the most fucking disgusting thing I've ever heard of." Louis wants to wash his hands a thousand times and then shower in boiling water.

"It's the circle of life." Harry shrugs, looking more than comfortable while talking about a familiar topic. "It's how enough cows are bred so every American can eat their average 270 pounds of beef and drink their 44 pounds of milk a year."

"I think I'm going off red meat after this conversation." Or at least for a couple months until the visuals die down, Louis thinks. "Wait, did you make those numbers up, or are they actual stats?"

"They're stats." Harry says factually.

"So you sold cows for meat and milk?" Louis asks because he actually has no clue about the details of what Harry did- well, other than the breeding now.

"Mostly we had dairy cows. We'll sell them for meat around four or five years old. They're only dairy cows right after they give birth though, so we're constantly impregnating them then selling the calves to other farms that either use them for veal or raise 'em. I didn't want the calves just being killed. I think it's mean." Harry pouts.

"Yeah that's... that's kind of unethical it sounds like..." Louis never thought he'd have the time or desire to develop opinions on the way animals are treated; but it's different when he's sitting here on his living room sofa talking to a farmer about it.

"They're just babies and the mom already goes through a lot of stress when you sell its baby anyways." Harry continues on.

"Would you like some dinner?" Louis asks spontaneously.

Harry's head snaps towards him. "Dinner?"

"Yes. Food. I'm assuming you came right from work?" Louis stands up and Harry nods. "Come on then. We're taking a break from all this."

"What do you want?" Harry jumps up and rushes into Louis' kitchen before Louis even gets there.

"What? Sit down." Louis points to his kitchen table.

Harry freezes with a hand on the refrigerator door that's been cracked open. "What do you want for dinner?"

"I literally just offered you dinner. That would insinuate that either _I'm_ taking care of it or maybe we do it together if we're feeling domestic." Louis bends down to pull out the skillet from the cabinet.

When Louis sets it on his stovetop he sees that Harry is standing like a deer in the headlights with a hand still gripped tightly on the handle.

"Are you going to make me repeat myself?" Louis asks. "Shut the damn door before all the cold air gets out and sit at the table."

Harry promptly closes the fridge and sits down at Louis' kitchen table looking like Louis' just made him sit on a chair made of cactus needles.

Louis wonders what that was about and pulls out a flat spatula. When he opens his fridge to grab the butter, he cringes and opts for the olive oil instead. "Any food allergies or dietary restrictions?"

He pushes around the mountains of cubed Tupperware boxes that hold all of his preplanned meals. He has very few loose items that aren't already sectioned off and designated for other meals. He _does_ have frozen beef, but it honestly doesn't sound too appealing to him at the moment.

He shuts the fridge to glare at Harry. "When I ask you a question, I expect you to respond verbally unless stated otherwise."

"Sorry. No. No allergies." Harry responds instantly.

"Better." Louis opens his freezer. _Fish!_ Fish is safe. He'll go for fish and rice. Thank goodness Sasha made him get all that salmon the other week.

"Do you want to punish me for that?" Harry speaks up from the table.

"You didn't know. There's going to be a learning curve and I'm not punishing you for ignorance. In the future, if I see fit, then yes." Louis turns the faucet to hot water and sets the packaged fish underneath it, then pulls rice from the pantry.

"Can I keep reading through the contract?" Harry asks timidly.

"Of course." Louis smirks. "What do you want to drink?"

"Do you got iced tea?" Harry asks politely while getting up from the table to get the contract from the living room.

"No. I have..." Louis pulls a face, "water or protein shakes."

Harry giggles. "Water's good."

"Should probably go shopping." Louis mutters.

Except, it's been months since he's even tried shopping for anyone other than himself. Looks like he'll need to change that. He feels like the sizzling olive oil on the skillet as the thought warms him.

"Um. I don't want to fuck or be fucked by people unless they're close in age to me. Like, within 10 years at least." Harry says from the table. "And I don't like the idea of dressing like a girl."

"Okay. That's three reds you should be underlining then." Louis instructs as he pulls the thawed fish from under the faucet.

"I'll just mark it in yellow since it will change with my age." The sound of the colored pencil scratches against the paper. "Or Halloween."

Of course he will.

"That's everything on that page then." Harry says.

Louis' jaw tenses a little. "The purpose of the contract is so that we're being honest with each other."

Harry doesn't say anything.

Louis wonders what he's holding back.

"Do you have any reds?" Harry asks.

"Yes." Louis says simply.

"Are they marked on a different paper?" Harry smooths his contract on the table.

"Sort of. I keep a file for each contract with each sub. My yellows and sometimes reds will change depending on the sub I'm with. They're also called hard and soft limits." Louis dumps the measured amount of rice into the bowl of water in the microwave, then drops the fillets into the skillet.

"Can you tell me?" Harry asks.

"General reds- hard limits- for me are scat play, bestiality, feederism, necrophilia, being on the receiving end of sounding, anything that will leave a visible scar on me or the sub, and physically assaulting me." Louis lists off.

"Like slapping?" Harry asks.

"I will very unkindly lose my shit if you slap me." Louis says calmly.

"But you can slap me?" Harry clarifies.

"Not if it makes you feel uncomfortable or unequal. The whole point is for us to feel as equals, because we are." Louis turns around to lean against the counter to look at Harry.

He doesn't say anything, but looks very much like he doesn't believe Louis.

"Harry, we are equals. Many people think it's the dom who's in control of the relationship, but if we're being truly honest, it's the sub. You have the power to slow down, put a stop to, or change anything at any time- including the terms and limits of the contract. Dominant and submissive relationships are simply an exchange of power for whatever predetermined amount of time." Louis turns around to flip the fish. "I'm simply a sadistic dacryphiliac looking to help others have a good time too."

"I haven't heard of dacryphilia before." Harry says.

"Sexual pleasure from watching other's cry." Louis explains.

"So what about the other things that you listed off. Why don't you like 'em?" Harry asks.

"Scat play is a no; feces belong nowhere near the bedroom in my opinion. Bestiality is not only illegal, but also makes me extremely uncomfortable. I didn't always used to be fit. In fact, as a child, I was rather overweight until I hit puberty, so the whole feederism thing is an extremely sensitive topic if I'm being honest." Louis admits.

"You were a child though." Harry says.

"And childhood traumas never die." Louis repeats the words of one of his therapists.

"I understand that." Harry bites at his lip, then changes course. "Necrophilia wasn't on the paper for me to mark."

"I don't put it on there because it's a rather rare thing for someone to be fond of in my personal encounters. But the one time it did come up, I had to tell the guy no, so it's stayed on my mental list of hard limits since then." Louis removes the fish from the skillet and onto plates.

"And you won't do sounding or scars?" Harry asks.

"Correct. Things being shoved into my urethra is not my idea of fun when it comes to myself. However, I'm completely comfortable doing it to my subs. Also, I believe leaving visible scars is something that crosses a boundary of possessiveness. Under the clothing as a result of activities from knife play, needles, or electrocution are a different story." Louis says.

The microwaves beeps to signal that the rice is cooked, so Louis pulls it from the container and arranges it nicely around the fish. He squeezes a dash of lime juice onto their food and joins Harry at the table.

"So do you got soft limits too?" Harry looks at his food, but doesn't touch it.

"Yes. Is there something wrong with the fish?" Louis inspects the salmon to double check that he cooked it all the way through.

"What do you want in return for the food?" Harry looks up at Louis.

"For you to eat it?" Louis looks at Harry with disbelief.

Harry shifts uncomfortably.

Louis sets his fork down.

"I didn't help make it. I should at least do something in return." Harry mutters.

"Refer to section 3.4.2. and take note that I take diet seriously. As a general rule, I won't give you things and automatically expect things in return when it comes to gifts, pleasure, and punishment." Louis slaps some papers to the side and points to the section he's referring to. "Also, whether the food was cooked by me or you has little relevance."

Harry fidgets with the collar of his shirt. "Sorry. I'm just used to always cooking. Like, for both my parents or my friends."

Louis nods, his question from earlier answered.

"If you cook, then I get to clean." Harry blurts out.

Louis raises an eyebrow.

"Please. I gotta feel like I helped contribute." Harry ducks his head down and lowers his voice.

Louis mentally stores this away to the psychology behind Harry Styles.

"Fair enough." Louis decides to compromise since Harry feels so passionately about it.

He picks his fork back up to eat some rice and Harry follows suit.

Harry is so _obviously_ uncultured in the BDSM realm because Louis painfully notes that he doesn't even ask to use the silverware.

It's not that Louis is big into things that take away what he believes to be every day human rights anyway; but he's been in the culture too long to not have certain things raise flags when the rules aren't automatically followed or asked about.

He figures he'll get around to explaining all the finite details to Harry eventually. Since silverware isn't something he has any strict policies on, he'll let it slide. Arrogance isn't meant to be punished.

"There's a lot of sections." Harry puts a forkful of fish into his mouth.

"There _are_ a lot of sections." Louis automatically corrects the shit show that is his grammar. "And yes there are."

"Sorry." He mumbles. "You never told me your soft limits."

"Right." Louis cuts his fish up into equally proportioned sections. "Rape role play has always been between a soft and hard limit for me. However with you, I'm moving it into the hard limit section for now."

"Why?" Harry furrows his eyebrows.

"I don't believe it's healthy for your psyche at this juncture in our relationship." Louis tells him the truth.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Harry says like he's ashamed.

"I swear to God if you apologize one more time to me tonight, I'm bending you over the kitchen table and giving you another five spanks." Louis looks Harry dead in the eye.

"Sor-" Harry squeaks and his eyes widen. "I didn't mean to. It's a habit."

"Then break it." Louis commands.

Harry just nods.

Louis lets his heartrate calm down some before continuing. "More soft limits include electrocution on either receiving or giving end, and emetophelia- or vomit play. Which, why did you not mark that earlier?"

Harry shrugs. "I throw up all the time if I get kicked too hard by an animal. It's nice. My body convulses and releases and then it's relieving. Feels like an orgasm, but with a burning esophagus and hard breathing for a bit."

Louis blinks. That's never something he quite had in mind when dealing with others who wanted to get involved with that particular kink. Then again, it's also different than how other subs have explained it to him.

Louis chooses to not address it for now. "That brings me to the next thing that I'm temporarily putting in the soft limit category, which is breath play. We can reevaluate later down the road, but for now, I don't want you relating our sexual experiences to those of your past."

Harry nods.

"That's about it as far as limits go for me." Louis goes back to eating.

Harry eats in silence and thumbs through more of the contract in between bites.

Harry marking exhibition in green didn't surprise Louis much. Every one of his subs was fine with exhibition. Showing genitals in public is basically the number one taboo practice that subs always want right away and it's a great trust-building scene to engage in.

Candaulism is the precise reason Louis keeps an Instagram solely dedicated to sexually displaying his subs to the voyeuristic strangers of the internet. There was one who preferred to keep the exploitation to a minimum, so Louis never put pictures of him on Instagram.

But Harry, not marking anything in red. It's too good to be true. It has to simply be arrogance.

Harry continues scratchingaway at the paper and Louis idly wonders if there are farmers that artificially inseminate salmon too and how that process works. He gags on his food a little and chases it down with some water, trying to wash the images from his mind.

He scoots the couple remaining pieces of salmon to the side and opts just to eat the rest of his rice.

He lets his mind travel to the vast amount of things that he'll be able to experience with Harry. Now that they've been going through a contract together and Louis knows more about Harry's past, it will make things go much smoother. They're expectations have cleared up a lot and Louis feels confident that Harry isn't coming to him purely to be abused anymore.

He'll still have to keep strong tabs on Harry's mentality and where he's at with everything. Louis thinks the key point to that is making sure Harry understands the coloring system. He'll have to do a couple test scenes with Harry so they can get used to each other's particular taste.

It will be a lot slower paced, he thinks, than the very experienced subs he's had before. Then again, Harry is obviously very willing to try things in order to please Louis.

It's a precarious spot for Louis. He's torn between kidnapping Harry for the next month and keeping him in his scene room and maturely sitting down to talk about more Harry's past abuse.

It will take a lot of control and a healthy mix of trial and error and going with his gut, but Louis is definitely, _definitely,_ up for the task.

"Um." Harry speaks up.

Louis looks up at him. "Yes?"

"Section 2.2.1.1?" Harry says softly.

Louis keeps his face from slithering into a smile. "Yes?"

"Red." Harry whispers.

~~~

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

~~~

L

The word is like a bomb siren and it makes Louis freeze.

Harry looks between the contract and Louis a couple of times, looking like he might run away.

"Why?" Louis makes sure his voice doesn't crack.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out so he shakes his head instead.

Louis can't decide if he should push it or leave it. It's obviously an extremely sensitive topic for Harry so much so that he actually admitted to it being a _red_. But Louis needs to understand. He needs to understand because this is a fundamental part of scenes for him.

"Read it out loud." Louis instructs.

Harry looks nervously from the paper to Louis, then down to the paper again. He clears his throat. "The submissive will refer to the dominant as- um..."

He won't say it.

"Why not?" Louis asks sternly.

Harry doesn't say anything for a beat. Then. "Childhood traumas never die." He quotes Louis from earlier.

"Did Desmond sexually abuse you?" Louis asks levelly.

Harry shakes his head. "Not sexually. Just physically."

Louis nods. "How old were you?"

"Dunno. As long as I can remember until he left when I was five." Harry says.

So. As Louis sees it then. Harry was abused by his father at the age in which he still called him 'daddy'. He was abused and never had power over the situation which is why it seems like Harry doesn't understand what consent truly means and later became involved in a relationship with his friend that emulated those same feelings.

"Did he ever say why he was abusing you?" Louis asks, not because it makes it right in _any_ circumstances, but because it might help him understand Harry's mentality a little better.

"He always said I deserved to be punished for being bad." Harry says.

Ding, ding, ding.

Louis should be a psychologist with how good he is at this.

"Did your friend back home know this when you and he started being sexual together?" Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head. "Only my mom knows. I never told anybody."

"I'm really sorry that happened to you Harry." Louis says honestly.

He thinks that he'll never quite look at Desmond the same. He's sure Desmond has no idea how much of what he did to Harry has affected who he's become and the likes of people who he seeks comfort and companionship from.

Louis tries not to smile a little at that. Desmond literally pushed his son straight into the arms of Louis. He feels unjustly smug about it.

The downside to it though, is that it _completely_ fucks with Louis' psyche. In eight years, Louis has never had a sub call him anything other than Daddy. It's the dominant persona he's confidently settled into and _earned_ from each and every sub he's had.

All of that aside, Louis truly does feel like his subs are his babies and the way he treats and takes care of them- it's the natural way for his subs to address him.

But it's a red for Harry.

Louis massages at his temples and takes everything back. He wonders if this will work at all.

Harry is deathly silent and Louis is too.

Louis' appetite is completely gone and his brain goes on loops and loops and loops.

And normally when it comes to problem solving, Louis is top of the class. He's dominated the behind-the-times 32-bit programmers into the era of smart televisions, tablets, and phones, by a simple change in display of user interface. He's single-handedly responsible for making Metal Core a household name.

Yet, Louis has no answer for how to negotiate the fact that Harry won't call him Daddy.

Louis needs... God, he needs a _scene_ to let go of this festering frustration, but he can't _do_ a scene with Harry if he can't even participate in the way that Louis needs him to.

Harry looks like he's about to open his mouth to profusely apologize, but anything he was about to say is cut off by Louis' phone ringing.

Louis stands up immediately to take the call because he needs any kind of distraction from his imminent cracking point.

"Tomlinson." He all but yells into the speaker and stalks into his home gym where it's sound proof, leaving Harry alone in the kitchen.

"Jesus. The hell's going on with you?" Niall asks like he's already 110 percent done with Louis' shit.

"You wouldn't understand even if I told you. Now what the hell do you want?" Louis clips.

"Well I now want to know what's got you so worked up." Niall says.

"The _one fucking red_ he decides to have is the single most vital part I need to be in a formal relationship with him or anyone else. Fuck him. Fuck Desmond. Fuck me." Louis yells to the soundproof walls.

"Why fuck Desmond?" Niall muses.

"Because he's the one who beat Harry until he developed god damned daddy issues so much so that it's scarred him for life." Louis rages.

"So your DaddyTommo Instagram username is a real thing? You actually have your subs call you Daddy?" Niall asks.

"Yes it's a real thing." Louis annunciates each word with a staccato. "And don't you fucking dare make fun of it because you don't understand it."

"I wasn't going to." Niall defends. "Aren't there other names though? Like in this one porno I watched-"

"This isn't a porno Niall! This is my _life._ My sex life is this persona and that doesn't just _change_ with the weather. It's an identity." Louis paces the length of the room.

"Okay. Understood." Niall says back. "So what if he was just like, completely silent instead?" He offers up. "I have no idea what the hell I'm talking about here, I'm just trying to help. But would that be so bad? Then at least he wouldn't be calling you something else that reminds you of who you aren't."

Louis stops and looks at himself in the mirror. "Completely silent is no good. But I see what you're saying." He strokes his middle and ring finger along his sideburns. "That's not a bad idea."

"You're welcome." Niall says easily from the other side of the line.

"Yes, thank you." Louis pushes that conversation to the side. "Now then. Why did you call in the first place?"

"Just wanted to know if we have the VIP package for Friday night." Niall says.

"You're fucking kidding me right?" Louis deadpans.

"Hey, there was that _one_ time you didn't when we had general admission tickets for _The Book of Mormon_ and I got sloshed before the performance and the ushers didn't let us through." Niall argues.

" _One time_ because VIP was sold out." Louis counters.

"Well that's what you get for skimping on season passes." Niall accuses.

"I can only watch so many Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals until I'm ready to blow my brains out. So pardon me for not wanting to attend _Phantom of the Opera_ and _Evita_ for the eleventh time." Louis defends. "Anyway, if that's all you needed, I need to go. Harry is still sitting in my kitchen."

"Right. Have a nice night then." Niall hangs up.

Louis pockets his phone and rubs at his eyebrows.

He returns to the kitchen to find Harry sitting in the exact same position he left him in.

"Sorry. Work." Louis excuses himself.

"It's fine." Harry says like it honestly doesn't bother him.

"During scenes, you are not to address me. I want you always saying 'please' to show respect. If you have a question, ask it nicely. If you need or want something, ask for it nicely. Understood?" Louis takes a seat at the kitchen table again.

"You don't want me calling you Louis?" Harry asks.

"No." Louis says patiently.

"Can I call you... Louis... outside of scenes?" Harry watches closely for Louis' reaction.

"At work, you should only refer to me as Mr. Tomlinson anyway, seeing as we are competitors and not allies." Louis clasps his hands on the table. "While we are doing other things, like eating dinner or going on dates... you can call me Louis."

His other subs called him Daddy around the clock, but he's going to have to make some compromises here and there and cut the losses where they won't sting as badly.

"Dates?" Harry lets the word come tentatively from his mouth.

Louis blinks. "Did I stutter?"

Harry flushes and makes a small noise. "Yellow."

Louis feels like someone just knocked the wind out of him. " _What_?"

Harry's breaths go shallow. "I- I don't want to be out publicly."

"You don't want to be seen with me in public?" Louis doesn't _care_ if they're competitors. He doesn't hide anything about his personal life from the media- save for the finer details of his BDSM relationships- but even then, there is plenty of heresay about Louis' tastes in the bedroom.

"No!" Harry coughs. "I mean out like gay. I don't want to be publicly gay."

"I make all of my relationships public." Louis says, dumbfounded.

"Do we have to?" Harry pleads.

Louis wants to automatically say yes. Resounding yes. No questions asked.

But he has some sympathy for Harry only because he knows that his fuck buddy friend was homophobic and it's obviously rubbed off on Harry.

But he does want to hear him say it. He wants Harry to know that he knows.

"Why?" Louis demands.

"I'm just- it's just-" Harry struggles, "uncomfortable. I don't want people knowing."

"Fine." Louis grits out.

He'll keep it on the down low.

For now.

"I'm sorry." Harry says reflexively, then his eyes widen like telescopes.

Louis purses his lips. "Harry, do you remember what I said about apologizing?"

Harry nods, making his curls bounce up and down.

"Words." Louis reminds him.

"You swore to God if I apologized one more time tonight you would bend me over the kitchen table and give me another five spanks." Harry recites verbatim.

"What's your color?" Louis drums his fingers on the table.

"Green." Harry rushes out.

"Then why the fuck are you still sitting?" Louis snaps.

Harry scrambles up so quickly that he knocks the backless chair onto the floor. His pants are down a second later and he's already done the honors of leaning over the table.

Louis stands up and takes his place behind him. "Tell me why you deserve this punishment Harry."

"Because I apologized after you told me not to." Harry's bum still glistens from the balm Louis worked into it earlier.

"Very good. I don't want you apologizing unnecessarily." He rolls up his sleeves. "These are going to feel blunter because you have a tacky layer of cream coating you."

"Okay." Harry says, looking over his shoulder at Louis.

"You are not to look at me." Louis points to the wall in front of them. "Now count with each spank."

"Okay." Harry says. And no, it's not a 'Yes Daddy' but it will have to suffice for now.

Louis lands the first one, hand coming into contact with the tacky layer of skin, making Harry jump more from the noise than anything.

"One!" Harry yelps.

Louis squeezes at his pert ass cheek before slapping it again.

"Two!" Harry flinches only marginally.

On the third spank, Louis' hand catches more surface area due to the layer of balm that's now coated his own hand.

"Three-" Harry moans.

Interesting.

He varies the next slap a lot harder, and to Harry's other ass cheek that still has a hearty coat of cream on it. It's a much blunter impact than any of the spanks so far and Louis feels it in his wrist.

"Four!" Harry moans louder.

Louis shakes his wrist out to prepare for the next one- noting that he is _definitely_ pulling out his paddle for the next punishment.

It claps loud and hard against Harry's bum, and Harry strangles out a "five!"

"Very good baby." Louis muses, wiping his hands together to moisten the rest of his hands with the balm.

Harry lays with his cheek on the table and pants. "Can I look at you now please?"

"Yes." Louis rolls his sleeves back down.

Harry pushes himself off the table and his knees buckle to the floor. Louis notes that he is hard. Very hard indeed.

"Can I give you a blowjob please?" Harry begs.

"What's your color?" Louis runs fingers through his curls, leaving a glistening shimmer of cream in their wake.

"Green." Harry says quickly, preening into Louis' hand.

"This is pleasure, not punishment." Louis distinguishes.

Harry nods. "I understand."

"I want you to come while sucking me off. You may use your hand. Do _not_ ruin the clasps on my pants." Louis lets a thumb trail down his bright pink cheeks. "Go on then."

Harry visibly processes the information and then reaches forward to carefully- but quickly- undo Louis' suit pants.

When they're pooled around his ankles on his kitchen floor, his Calvin Klein briefs are pulled down carefully next, and then Harry surges forward to take Louis' cock into his mouth.

Louis grunts with the sudden contact because Harry gives _rough_ head. He threads his fingers into his curls again and tightens. "Fuck, slow down baby."

Harry instantly seizes and looks up to Louis with saucers for eyes. He doesn't move.

"Less teeth and more cheek." Louis instructs because that will force him to slow down.

A look of concentration fixes on Harry's face as he moves his mouth to let Louis' cock glide alongside the inside of one of his cheeks.

"Yeah, that's it." Louis loosens his grip on Harry's hair.

Harry repeats the motion a few more times before moving to the other side of his mouth. Then, he looks up to Louis again.

Louis grins, realizing that Harry wants a step-by-step on how to please him. "Lick around the head, then let it slide up and back."

It's sloppy at first, mostly with a lot of his tongue just pressing to Louis' tip, then an uneven slide to the back. By the fourth time, Harry has figured out a more controlled way to follow the instructions. Louis feels him confidently lick circles around the head of his cock, then the drag as it's pressed between Harry's tongue and roof of his mouth and slowly slides deeper into his throat.

"Yeah, God that's good." Louis praises.

Harry's looking up at him again expectantly, while still slowly gliding his mouth up and down Louis' cock.

"What's your color? Three taps on my thigh for green, two for yellow, one for red." Louis says.

Harry gives three small taps to the outside of Louis' thigh.

"I'm going to fuck your mouth while you pleasure yourself, okay?" Louis squeezes Harry's roots.

Harry gives another three small taps to the outside of Louis' thigh, and Louis is very pleased indeed.

He angles Harry's face downward so he can thrust up into it better and one of Harry's hands goes between his thighs. Louis closes his eyes and gives into the sensation and small noises Harry makes as Louis fucks up into him.

Louis grabs Harry's hair tighter and grips onto the kitchen table behind him with the other hand. The sounds from Harry's hand gets more rapid and his jaw goes more slack. With each thrust, he chokes a little on Louis' cock and Louis shoves himself in a little further.

When Harry's noises turn into whimpers and he's spluttering around Louis, Louis pulls out to let Harry finish himself. It's a second later when Harry cries out with his orgasm.

Louis yanks Harry's head upwards to see the tears streaming down his cheeks and it's only two pulls on his cock until he's coming into his own hand.

He drops to Harry's level and uses his free hand to stroke Harry's cheek. "Color baby."

"Green." Harry slumps sideways into the leg of the table.

Louis gets up to wash off his hands and bring tissues to Harry. "You did so good baby."

"I did?" Harry croaks out, tears still filling the brims of his eyes.

"Absolutely perfect." Louis praises. "You are perfect. You did amazing."

Harry blots himself off with the tissues and then stands to go throw them away.

Louis takes them from him. "I'll take care of it babe."

Harry looks confused and hands the soiled tissues for Louis to toss into the trash bin.

"Will you punish me please?" Harry asks from the floor.

Louis spins on a dime. "Why in the world would I punish you?"

Harry shrugs. "Because I deserve it?"

Louis points to the kitchen chair again. "Dress yourself then sit down."

Harry stands up immediately to do up his fly and fumbles for the clasps when he realizes that they were accidentally torn off earlier. He promptly sits down.

Louis takes the seat across from him again. "Why?"

Harry sits up a little straighter, but his eyes stay focused on his lap. "I uh, just always feel like I've done something wrong."

"Well you haven't done anything wrong." Louis assures him in a stern tone.

"Could you punish me just so like, I _know_ I haven't done anything wrong please?" Harry's eyes flick up to meet Louis' this time.

"No." Louis says automatically. "I won't abuse you."

"It's not abuse." Harry rushes out. "It's... um... conscience insurance." He says strangely.

Louis blinks. "...conscience... insurance..."

"Yeah. So like, I can feel good- if you think I deserve it." Harry tries to explain.

"You always deserve to feel good." Louis counters.

"Then punish me? Please?" Harry begs.

Louis squints his eyes then rubs his face. "Not tonight. Tonight was good. Very good and I don't want to mix up anything other than that feeling with it. On my or your part. I can't just _punish_ you Harry. That's not how it works, and my conscience isn't okay with that."

"Well then, not tonight. But I dunno, maybe another time? Like if I've done something bad or fuck up and I tell you about it?" Harry tries.

"What do you mean?" Louis needs elaboration because he has no idea what Harry is going on about.

"Like if I do really bad at work. Or do something wrong in my lessons. Could you punish me for that?" Harry explains.

Louis taps his fingers on the kitchen table. Harry wants control extended into his personal life. Louis certainly isn't passed presenting that to his subs. He's had full time ones and part time ones.

For Harry though, it often comes back to him needing to have someone constantly managing what he deserves or not.

It's not an abnormal thing for a sub to ask for. It just feels a little different for Harry, considering his past, where he would get abused for no reason by his friend.

He'll meet Harry halfway with this one.

"I'll give you one free punishment a month. You may ask for it whenever you wish. I won't ask questions and you can atone for all of your wrongdoings during that time." Louis offers.

Harry furiously nods his head. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Louis laces his fingers together. "Now, I believe I've kept you long enough. Go home and get some rest."

"I'll just do the dishes first, then I'll go." Harry promptly goes over to the sink and starts on the dishes.

Louis has a dishwasher. And aside from a dishwasher, he has a house maid for those weeks he's too busy to put his dishes in the sink. However, Harry needs this and he looks much too sated scrubbing oil off the skillet for Louis to stop him.

It doesn't take him long though since it was a simple meal with little clean up required. The plates and pans are dried and put away and Harry sighs.

He turns sadly and kicks off the slippers Louis gave to him when he gets to the entry way. Louis gets his coat from the coat closet and hands it back to him.

"Thank you." Harry stumbles into his loafers and takes the jacket from him. He doesn't put it on though.

"You're going to get cold." Louis says.

"Oh. I'm going to the hardware store. I'll pick up a different jacket on the way." Harry says.

Louis wonders why the hell Harry is going to a hardware store at eight at night, but doesn't ask, because if there's someone who would go to a hardware store this late at night, it would be a cow farmer from Kentucky.

Louis smiles at the thought. "Do you need cab fare?" He routinely offers, forgetting whose son Harry is.

"No. I drive my pick up everywhere." Harry looks down at his feet.

"Hey." Louis tilts his chin up towards him. Harry looks back at him with trusting eyes.

"Have a good night." Then Louis presses a kiss so soft to his lips that it surprises both of them a little bit. "Text me when you're home."

Harry nods obediently like he wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, then leaves out the front door.

~~~


	10. Chapter 10

<3 <3 <3

~~~

H

Harry is on cloud nine.

He thinks if he were to get pulled over and told to walk the line, he would surely stumble and shake the entire time. There is a permanent grin etched to his face that isn't leaving any time soon.

When he walks into the corner hardware store, he feels like everyone can see it written on his face that his plan worked. Louis wants him. Louis wants him now and wants him more in the future and _shit_ when is the next time Harry will get to see him?

He feels giddy thinking about it- wondering what will happen between them next time and what he can give Louis.

He has Louis' number now. He wonders what his boundaries are with contacting him. They talked mostly about the boundaries revolving around their sexual limits more than what's outside of it.

"Sir, we close in 20 minutes. Can I help you?" The man behind the register asks, startling Harry.

Harry's eyes go wide and he giggles- not even ashamed or wanting to cover it up. He just shakes his head and continues through the aisle.

He feels like he could do anything. Fix anything. Solve anything. Conquer anything. All because he has Louis and he is Louis'.

Maybe he's not _strictly_ Louis' because he didn't end up signing the contract, but as far as Harry is concerned, he is 110 percent devoted to Louis anyway; he wouldn't need a contract to prove that. He just needs to give Louis as much as he can to keep him pleased.

The contract in general scares the shit out of Harry though. He wonders if he can be good enough for Louis so that Louis doesn't want to sign it with him anymore. There was so much talking about it and trying to comprehend the fact that Louis wanted to _punish him_ on a _regular basis_ \- and it was exciting as hell- but Harry is just so in over his head.

But just because Louis is eons more experienced than Harry, doesn't mean he's about to show it.

So hopefully he can keep the contract at bay for now. In the time being, he'll be as good as he can for Louis. He'll give Louis everything he knows how to give.

He pushes back the sleeves of his new jacket that he picked up from Nordstrom on the way here and reaches out to touch the different AstroTurfs as Brad Paisley plays softly through the speakers of the store.

Back in Kentucky, it was always the standard indoor-outdoor green. Here in New York though, Harry can really afford any kind he wants.

He chooses the indoor-outdoor green in the end.

He hauls the roll of 300 ft. of AstroTurf out of the mess of rolls and throws it over his shoulder up to the counter. When he plops the roll down on the surface, green flecks fly everywhere and the man behind the register- Bill- looks unamused.

"How much of this did you want sir?" Bill leans down to pull out his scissors.

"All of it." Harry grins because Bill doesn't know that Harry's ass is probably still bright red from where Louis spanked him.

"That'll be $487.18." Bill says suspiciously.

"Eherm, actually." Harry looks around to the empty store. "Could I grab some tools too?"

"Sure." Bill shrugs.

Harry grabs a shopping cart. His smile becomes more manic and he nearly skips down the aisles because it's been ages since he's felt this content. He wonders if Louis feels this good too. He wonders what he could do to help Louis feel this good all the time because Louis deserves it and he's made Harry earn this and so Louis deserves the world.

He throws in a staple gun, a new set of Dewalt power tools, duct tape, tool essentials, cable ties, a stud finder, painting supplies, industrial sized trash bags and hell, he grabs a chicken waterer because he can fill it with water and hang it on his balcony for other birds to drink from.

He pushes the cart up to the front and Bill looks at him like he may have just laid eggs on his cash register; but Harry doesn't pay it any mind because he can still feel the tacky layer of balm sticking his boxers to his bum.

"Will this be all?" Bill asks, and surely that's sarcasm in his voice, but...

"Actually, do you have a slab of plywood?" Harry asks, all too excited for the answer.

Bill lazily looks around. "Nope. But there's some old crates in the back I can give to you if you're needing some wood."

"I would really appreciate that." Harry says politely.

"Sure man." Bill looks boredly to Harry's cart. "Look, we close in five minutes and I really don't want to be here all night checking you out, so can we swipe it for $1,000 and call it even?"

"Yeah!" Harry fishes out his wallet and passes Bill his credit card.

"Should I bother asking for ID?" Bill asks, tiresome.

"Why? I'm not buying booze." Harry looks to his cart.

Bill guffaws and takes the card from Harry to swipe it. "Where you from son?"

"Kentucky." Harry says it proudly.

"Welcome to New York." Bill hands his card back. "And have a good night."

"You too sir." Harry waves goodbye. He pauses at the doorway where the mini fridge is located. He opens it and pulls out an iced tea. He looks over to Bill who is already looking at him. "Can I?"

Bill laughs, nods, and shoos him away.

Harry sets it on top of the pile and pushes his shopping cart out to his truck.

It takes him 15 minutes to get everything into the bed of the truck and then 20 to get home, but Harry keeps Carrie Underwood going the entire time and only sees Louis' face every time he closes his eyes.

After he finally gets all of his items hauled up to his penthouse, he immediately pulls out his phone to text Louis.

**I'm home. Thank you again for tonight :)**

He grins at his phone hearing 'Absolutely perfect. You are perfect. You did amazing.' over and over and over again in his head until he thinks he might combust.

His phone vibrates back with Louis' response and Harry hungrily opens it.

**Of course baby. Glad you're home safe. Sleep well.**

Harry wants to float to the moon then come back down to Earth to give Louis blow jobs the rest of his life. Though he supposes the moon would be a better place for it anyway since doing that for Louis was, in the most cliché way possible, out of this world.

It's just. For once it wasn't just about Harry giving a blow job.

It was Harry giving Louis something that he openly wanted and very much and satisfying him. It was Louis helping him through it and instructing him and telling him how to be better. How to please him better.

It was how Louis called him baby and perfect.

Harry blasts Dirks Bently, then grabs his recently acquired pliers to rip the carpet from the tack strip along the walls.

He loves the way the floor smells when the wood is exposed. He loves the sound of carpet and the padding underneath detaching from the staples and adhesives.

He works quicker and quicker, replaying the way they _kissed_. Harry has never been kissed like that. He replays the way Louis spanked him over the arm of the couch. How he punished him over the kitchen counter and it felt _good._ How he came when he saw tears streaming down Harry's face.

How Louis called him perfect.

Harry shivers.

Right afterwards though.

Right afterwards was when Harry noticed a strong, strong absence of _something_.

Right afterwards is when Harry asked for a punishment because he didn't feel guilty for doing gay things and acting like a faggot.

Louis didn't make him feel guilty and Harry very much feels like he needs to be punished for that; because if he's not feeling guilty for feeling unrepentant, then he needs to feel guilty for being gay. If he's not feeling guilty for being gay, he needs to feel guilty for being bad. All of which result in him deserving punishment so he can let it go.

But Louis didn't want to punish him for any of it and Harry can't figure out why. He's sure that Louis will figure out soon enough how bad Harry is. He's sure he'll realize that he needs to be punished often.

Until then though, Harry will be the damn best he can be and make up for his internal guilt with his free pass at punishment once a month with Louis. He'll save up all the guilt and all the gay for that day and once Louis punishes him for it, he'll let it go.

Harry smiles, so, so thrilled that he was able to talk Louis into it.

He leaves the living room half carpeted and half in AstroTurf. He loves it.

Tomorrow, he thinks. Tomorrow he'll do the hall and half of his bedroom.

Tomorrow he'll do something that will make Louis want to punish him again.

~~~

Harry wakes up feeling like he weighs nothing.

He breezes through his morning routine to the sounds of Jonny Cash and loves the feeling of his wet feet on his newly installed AstroTurf half of his living room.

He gets to work two hours early, but before he leaves his truck, he excitedly opens his Twitter app to see the latest stories they've come up with between himself and Louis.

He frowns when he sees one.

**Styles projected to dominate Tomlinson**

He wants to tag Louis in it, but he knows his 2.3 million followers would all see it. He's about to send it to him in a direct message, then remembers his social media team would see that too.

He screenshots it instead.

When he arrives on Floor 35, he decides that he'll start using his extra time before work to take the stairs. There's a giant, luxurious bathroom on Floor 35 anyway, so he can just get dressed there.

Harry walks into the coniferous cabin that his father calls his office.

"Harry." Desmond looks up in surprise. "It's 6am."

"You said be here early." Harry shrugs off.

"I did. I mostly expected you to sleep in though." Desmond looks back down at his desk.

Harry sits down awkwardly at the giant leather chair across the desk from him. "Why're you here early then?"

"I figured I may as well be in here early anyway. Lots of things to handle with Vander Tech now under our belt." Desmond turns to his computer.

"Things are goin' good with that then?" Harry asks.

"Yes. Good job on that so- Harry." Desmond corrects himself. "I don't know where you came up with that idea, but it was just the one our company needed."

Harry smiles back at him.

"What do you want me to work on this morning then?" Harry asks.

"I have Pablo coming in at seven and you're spending three hours with him today. Until then, I want Niall showing you what he does because he will take over as your Personal Assistant when you become CEO." Desmond types away at his computer. "You need to understand what he does and why he is fundamental to your success."

It's not that Harry doesn't like Pablo. He just doesn't like public speaking. So that particular set of news isn't the most thrilling for him.

And Niall. Harry still can't pinpoint what it is about Niall.

"Yes sir." Harry sighs.

Just then, there is a knock at the door and the rim of Niall's glasses make an appearance as his head pokes around the door.

"Niall, come in. I was just about to send Harry to you." Desmond doesn't take his eyes off the computer.

Niall looks Harry up and down one too many times as he walks to put Desmond's coffee on his desk. "What do you need?"

"I need you to help Harry understand your job. I want you being so detailed with him that if you were sick and he had to fill in for you, he could do it." Desmond picks up his desk phone and dials a number.

"I'm never sick." Niall blinks.

"You have an hour." Desmond doesn't say anything further to Niall and instead starts a conversation with the legal team.

It's barely there, but Harry watches as Niall's jaw tenses, loosens, then a half-assed fake smile makes an appearance. "Follow me then Harry."

Harry stands up, the leather chair still swiveling with the absence of his wake and trails behind Niall. Niall stops halfway between Desmond's office and his own to pull a folding chair from a janitorial closet. When they get into Niall's office, he sets it wordlessly next to his own and turns on his computer.

"You don't get coffee for yourself?" Harry asks, looking at Niall's extremely empty desk- the polar opposite from his fathers.

"Don't drink it." Niall gives the shortest explanation possible.

"Do you want an iced tea then? Liam said he'd start stocking the reception fridge with some for me." Harry offers his prized iced tea stash that Harry believes represents a blooming friendship between himself and Liam.

"No." Niall types a long string of characters into his computer before logging in.

Harry lets the silence settle for a moment, wondering if Niall is probably just not much of a morning person. But then Niall opens up seven different applications on his computer while simultaneously pulling a planner full of passwords from the drawer.

"Um... what are you doing?" Harry squints at the dozens of windows that have just been opened in the web browser alone.

"I can't do my job if you're talking to me." Niall clips.

Harry furrows his eyebrows a little bit. Normally, he would absolutely take the hint and get the fuck out, but his father specifically told him to learn what Niall does, and he can't follow the instruction if he doesn't learn.

"Well I'm sorry if you're not a morning person, but my father told me to learn what you do." Harry stands up for himself.

Niall bites at the inside of his cheek without taking his eyes off the computer. "First thing is check Desmond's bank account and send the information to the finance department. While that loads, go through every minute of his agenda for the day. Next thing is fix whatever Liam's fucked up with scheduling meetings. After I rearrange his entire day, I do any miscellaneous data management that will consecutively take less than five minutes."

"All in an hour?" Harry asks.

Niall laughs loudly.

"What?" Harry blushes.

"If all that took me an hour I'd be fired years ago. I have 15 minutes for that." Niall clicks away furiously.

"Why doesn't finance just check his bank account?" Harry thinks he might be able to find some ways to help Niall be more efficient.

"There is no beginning or end to whom is classified as finance; and giving his highly personal information to hundreds of thousands of people is more dangerous than seppuku." Niall opens up an email, copying and pasting a large amount of data to it and adding notes to different things.

"What's seppuku?" Harry shifts in the uncomfortable folding chair to see Niall's screen better.

"Look it up." Niall sends the email along with four others that had apparently been drafted sometime in the last five minutes. "Now don't talk for the next 10 minutes, I-"

Niall cuts himself off to answer the phone that rings. He picks it up with reflexes of a cat being dunked under water. "Desmond Styles P.A. Niall."

Harry listens to him move around some meeting, but halfway through, Niall's personal cell phone rings. Harry is about to motion charades and offer to answer it for him, but Niall apparently has it covered.

"I apologize, but I'm going to need to place you on a brief hold while I double check his calendar." Niall pushes mute on the desk phone and answers his cell phone. "Desmond Styles P.A. Niall."

Another short conversation ensues while Niall simultaneously sends out another three emails and takes notes on the phone call.

Then there's another vibrating coming from somewhere. Harry pats his own pockets to find that his phone isn't vibrating and is about to check under the desk when Niall pulls out another cell phone from his suit jacket pocket.

Niall pulls it out, and Harry _swears_ he sees the text from someone named **Louis of Suburbia** with the middle finger emoji, but he's obsessed and a little crazy, so he acts like it's not what he saw.

Niall responds to the text, closes the phone call, sends another email, then finishes the other call in a matter of thirty seconds and Harry's mouth opens in awe.

Niall presses another button on the desk phone. "Next is listening to any voicemails while corresponding with the travel agent for any changes in visas or accommodations for myself and Des. Then take care of whatever is requested in a timely manner. Then go through Desmond's personal and business emails, marking them as urgent, crucial, and imperative."

Harry looks at the clock. It's only 6:20am and he decided he definitely would never want to do Niall's job.

Then again, he doesn't want his father's job either. He doesn't want any job that is here in New York. He wants to breed his cows.

But breeding his cows means being in Kentucky, and for the first time in a full month, it's the first time he's felt something that makes him want to stay.

Harry feels his stomach churn thinking about being somewhere that Louis is not.

Back in Kentucky he has Grady. And Harry loves Grady. He always has. They've been friends too long for him not to. If he were there, he would undoubtedly do everything he could to be good for Grady like he's always done.

But going back to Grady would be like having a light beer after red wine and Harry doesn't quite know how to feel about that.

The urgency of it scares him because it's a panic that thrums through his veins when he thinks about leaving Louis. It scares him because he thinks there's probably nothing he wouldn't do to make Louis want him.

"Harry?" Niall questions boredly.

"Sor-" He's about to apologize, then takes it back because Louis told him to break the habit, "yes?"

"Did you get all that?" Niall types away on a Roots tablet that appeared from nowhere.

"No." Harry says honestly.

Niall sighs in annoyance, but doesn't say anything passed it.

"You know Louis?" Harry brings up casually.

Niall's head snaps over to him. "How the hell am I supposed to do my job if you keep bothering me with irrelevant questions?"

Harry frowns because he doesn't like Niall's tone. He only likes Louis' tone when being talked to like that.

"I was just going to ask about his history at Metal Core." Harry bites back.

Niall freezes for a moment before seeming to take on a pseudo-calm demeanor. "There's a Wikepedia page for that."

Harry angrily ignores Niall for the rest of the hour.

~~~


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I apologize for the day late update. I have been dropping the ball lately... feel free to leave hate below xx I love you guys anyway :D

-Dannie

Twitter: [@dannieybarra](http://www.twitter.com/dannieybarra)      

~~~

"Harry!  Glad to see you again."  Pablo hugs him.

Harry awkwardly hugs back.  "You too."

"Sit down, sit down.  I have a new technique we're trying today."  Pablo walks over to the refrigerator.

Their three-hour public speaking session, apparently, is taking place in the break room.

Harry sits on the chair and watches in curiosity as Pablo shuffles things around in the fridge.  "What're you doing?"

"We are overcoming your stage fright first and foremost.  I assume that will take about half the session; then the latter half will be building up your strengths and how to use them to your advantage in public debate."  Pablo pulls a glass bottle out and sets it on the table.

Harry reads the label while Pablo gets out two tall wine glasses.  "Sangria?"

"Reminds me of home."  Pablo says fondly.  "Now I only save this for extreme circumstances; but you, my friend, are an extreme circumstance.  We're going to get you nice and buzzed and our lesson will progress at about seven times the rate as our other ones."  He uncaps it then pours the crimson liquid to the brim of both glasses.  "I already have permission from Desmond after showing him the success rate with my other jump-start learners."

Harry's heart beats a little faster because he wants to yell out 'yellow', but Pablo would have no idea what it means and Harry would sound insane.  He looks at Pablo like a snipe caught with a flashlight and has no idea what to do or say.

Pablo takes a swig from the bottle after pouring both glasses full and smiles.  "I know you're scared.  It's okay.  After what happened with you at the industry mixer, I don't blame you one bit.  I saw the media shit storm that's been going on because of it too."  He pushes both glasses towards Harry.  "Both are for you."

Harry stares at them and then back up at Pablo. 

"Let me grab you some water too.  Sangria can give you a fierce headache if you're not careful."  Pablo gets back up to get in the fridge.

Harry does the only thing he can really think to do; and that's texting Louis.

**Yellow yellow yellow yellow yellow**

His thumbs shake as he sends it and his neck snaps back up at the sound of the fridge being opened.  Harry nicks the switch of his phone upward to take it off silent and prays that Louis- _anybody_ \- will call him.

Pablo sits down with a water bottle when Harry's ringtone goes off.

Harry could cry with deliverance, but puts on his best apology face.  "Sorry- I'm sorry, just, um, let me get this real quick.  Sorry."

Pablo waves him off.  "Not a big deal.  I'll be here keeping this bottle company."

Harry almost trips over himself while running out the door and taking the first turn he sees into another custodial closet.  He flips the light on, locks himself in, and answers the call from Louis.

"Please- please- I need help and I'm sorry-" Harry rushes out and twists the tips of his curls, "I'm sorry for apologizing, I keep doing it and I know you told me to break it but I'm sorry because I- I can't-" Harry cuts himself off with trying to keep himself from hyperventilating.

"Baby calm down."  Louis' voice comes sure and steady from the other end of the line.  "I want you to take a deep breath and then tell me what's going on."

Harry takes a few shallow breaths before gathering the means to take a deep one and then lets his panicked ramblings out with it.  "I hate public speaking and I hate getting buzzed because I'm always scared I'm going to get drunk and I don't want to get drunk because Grady's dad always used to beat him when he was drunk and Pablo wants me to drink so I'm not scared to speak publicly because I'm not skilled enough or confident enough to do what he wants when I'm sober and I don't know what to do because my dad told him to too."

"Close your eyes Harry."  Louis commands.  Harry does so, then a second later, Louis asks, "are they closed?"

"Yes."  Harry says to the darkness.

"And you can hear me?  I want you only focusing on my voice and on breathing deeply."  Louis instructs.

"Yes."  Harry answers with another deep breath.

"I've got you okay?  I'm here for you and you're safe while you're on the phone with me."  Louis says calmly.  "We're going to talk about this a bit, okay?"

Harry nods.  "Okay."

"You said you don't like drinking because you're scared of getting drunk?"  Louis asks.

"Yes."  Harry says.

"And you don't want to get drunk because of what happened with Grady and his dad?"  Louis clarifies.

He takes a deep breath and remembers that he's on the phone with Louis and everything is okay.  "Yes."

"On a scale of 1-10, 1 being not very important and 10 being extremely important, how vital is it that you have your public speaking lessons today?"  Louis asks.

"I don't- I dunno."  Harry bites his lip.  "I think it's probably an eight because my father scheduled for him to come in early just so he could give me a three-hour lesson and I have another meeting with him tomorrow too."

"Re-scheduling isn't an option then?"  Louis asks.  "Are your eyes are still closed?"

"No I can't re-schedule."  Harry focuses on another deep breath to steady himself.  "Yes they're still closed."

"Good.  And you don't think you are confident enough to progress at the rate they want by yourself?"  Louis asks gently.

"I hate public speaking."  He says weakly.

"I thought you did really well when I watched you at the mixer.  It will just take some practice."  Louis reassures him.

"It was easier with you there."  Harry whispers.

"Is this more about the public speaking or the alcohol?"  Louis inquires.

"I'm not sure."  He presses the heel of his hand to his forehead, making sure to keep his eyes closed.

"Which one makes you feel more yellow?"  Louis asks.

Harry thinks about it for a minute before finally deciding.  "Public speaking.  I sometimes drink a tiny bit- like for the company Halloween party- because it helped me be able to talk to people all night."

"Good."  Louis affirms.  "I'm going make a proposition, and I want you to tell me how you feel about it."

"Okay."  Harry already feels confident that Louis' proposition will be a good one.

"Go in for you lesson and start off with a couple sips.  Drink water in between so that you don't have to worry about the buzz hitting you too hard.  Then take it slow and tell Pablo rushing will make you more nervous.  I'm going to have my phone in my hand for the next three hours, and if at any second, you feel like you're at a yellow again, text me and I will call you and fix your situation."  Louis states.  "Tell me your thoughts."

Harry is already nodding, but vocalizes his thoughts too.  "Yes.  Yeah.  I can text you and you'll help me if I need it?"

"Yes baby."  Louis reassures him.  "What's your color?"

"Green."  Harry smiles to himself.

"Perfect."  Louis finalizes.  "Then next time I see you, I'm giving you five spanks for unnecessarily apologizing."

"Yes please."  Harry breathes.

"I want you counting how many times you apologize to people throughout the day, and I will adjust your punishment to the severity in which you deserve."  Louis threatens.

"Thank you."  Harry's stomach fills with butterflies.

"Open your eyes for me."  Louis instructs and Harry obeys.  "I'm going to hang up the phone now, but I'll be right here the whole time."

"Kay.  Okay.  Thank you."  Harry feels a small pang of separation anxiety, but reassures himself that Louis is right there for him.

"You're welcome.  Bye baby."  Louis says.

"Bye."  Harry takes a deep breath as Louis hangs up.

It's just Harry in a custodial closet now with the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights and a mustard colored custodial mop bucket and wringer on wheels.  He lets Louis' reassurances fill his headspace to give him confidence to open the door.

The short walk back, Harry reminds himself that Louis' got him.  Harry is safe with Louis and he's there for him.  On top of all of that, Louis is going to give Harry the punishment he deserves for not doing better with breaking his habit of apologizing.

His phone vibrates right before Harry goes back into the break room with a text from Louis.

**I'm right here for you. Deep breaths.**

Harry smiles and takes one more deep breath before texting Louis back with a smiley face, then going to sit at the table with Pablo again.

"Are you ready for the best lesson you'll ever have in your life?"  Pablo asks.

Harry sits up a little straighter.  "I'm ready."

~~~

Harry is best friends with everybody on Floor 17, 12, 11, and 10.  He knows all the names and birthdays of their spouses and kids. 

He spent a good amount of time talking to a vegetarian girl, Tina from Floor 10, about how important it is for Americans to include meat in their diets, and got her to reconsider her stance on health choices. 

Leo, from Floor 11, didn't think animal hunting should be a legal sport in America.  Harry explained to him the importance of game and predator control as well as how it provides state controlled jobs for employees in the Division of Wildlife.  When put that way, he became much more supportive.

Krissy from Floor 17 had a fearful opinion against gun control in America.  Harry told her the story of the one time Mona was home alone and though she didn't have to use her shotgun to defend herself, it worked great when she fired a warning shot into her bedroom wall and the midnight intruder fled faster than a deer on the highway.  Krissy still doesn't agree with the concept, but respects and understands Harry's point of view on the matter now.

Harry has gone through the entire bottle of Sangria- mostly by himself- and it truly has done wonders for his confidence.

Suddenly the things Pablo was teaching him and making him practice weren't so hard or uncomfortable.  Suddenly it made a lot more sense, and suddenly Harry felt completely at ease to broach controversial topics because his opinion is important too and people listen to him because he knows how to influence persons and debate better now.

Also.  _Also_.

Louis has promised to punish him. 

Harry made sure to _not_ apologize when he was practicing his debating with Tina and Leo and Krissy.  It was hard.  Really, really hard.  But he was proud of his efforts.

But then he kind of undermined the entire effort by texting Louis after each time.

**H: Sorry, sorry, but I'm SO GOOD because she said she would reconsider eating meaaaatttttt**

**H: Like me.  I'll eat your meat 8=====D**

**L: Harry.**

**H: Sorry was that too gay? :((**

**L: No. But you shouldn't apologize for being good.**

**H: I was the best with leo though. I was basicly like a inja and now he believes me because i put his ass in PLACE**

**L: I'm proud of you baby. What's your color?**

**H: Sorry was that too sexual? Idk im a liiiltle tipsy so i cant tell the difference. but im greeeen**

**L: It wasn't sexual unless you intended for it to be. Which I should hope not, since I do not want you thinking of other's asses in any sexual capacity.**

**H: Sorry it wast sexual then. krissy didnt agree with me on guns srry but i love my shotgun and rifle :((**

**L: Simply through texts, I've counted 6 apologies.**

**H: sOrry i needt o stop drinki ng**

**H: Louissssssssssssssssss sorry**

**H: sorry im drunk**

**L: That's 9 now. Are you doing this on purpose or does your memory fade with your intoxication level?**

**H: D:**

**H: PLEZSE STILL PUNSH ME FOR S AYIG SORRY**

**L: So it is on purpose.**

**H: im soy for yel ling :D:D: D**

**L: You will come to my house immediately after you get off work.**

**H: aFter 8 !! yaYY**

**L: Make it 7.**

So by the end of the three hours, Pablo is laughing with Harry and helping him into Niall's office.

"Niall!  Neil!  Ask me about a hard topic!  I can debate now!"  Harry throws his hands in the air.

"Oh my God, Desmond wasn't joking."  Niall stares at them.

" _Pablo_ is a miracle worker.  Everyone should call him Jesus."  Harry pats Pablo on the chest.  "You have to define what it is that you're even arguing over in the first place or else how are you supposed to stay straight in your brain?"  He giggles.  "Straight."

"Well what are we supposed to do with him now?  It's hardly 10 in the morning."  Niall looks at Pablo like he's a dirty rag.

"Desmond wants him staying here with you until his next lesson with Sarah at 11."  Pablo chuckles.

"So like, you're _not_ supposed to ask open ended questions in debates!  'Cause then there's room for them to prove you wrong."  Harry explains.  "Except- except- unless you're putting someone down and you're _Louis_ , then-"

Niall loudly interrupts Harry.  "Thank you Pablo, I'll take care of it."

Pablo gives Harry a robust hug that he returns full hearted and with a small slap to the back that doesn't even make Harry flinch.

"Byeeeeee Pablo!"  Harry wiggles his fingers goodbye.

"Harry, could you shut the door please?  I don't want to explain your intoxication to anyone."  Niall says like it's a bad taste in his mouth.

"But Niall!  Everybody loved me!  I talked to so many people!"  Harry points to the door.  "And like, I had good opinions because I actually believed in them.  You have to like, _believe_ in what you say, you know?  You can't just talk out of your ass."

"Thank you, yes I did take debate in middle school.  I'm sorry you missed out on that part of your education, but I'm glad it's on our company's dollar and expense."  Niall dryly responds.

"Did you know you have to have _three_ affirmatives and _three_ negatives for it to be an optical argument?"  Harry sits down on the floor.

"Did you mean to say optimal?"  Niall turns to type something on his computer.

"I don't know."  Harry looks at the carpet.  "But I'm a good person Niall.  I'm good and I'm confident and I know things and I would never ever, ever beat my son."

"I think you should probably start drinking a lot of water."  Niall swivels around in his leather chair to pull out a water bottle from his mini fridge.

"Do you know what's funny?"  Harry doesn't wait for Niall's response.  "The phrase 'fundamentally flawed.'  I like saying it because it feels soft on my tongue.  Like, like, you point out why the person's _argument_ is fundamentally flawed.  Not why they're an idiot, even though some people are anyway."

"Jesus Christ."  Niall walks over and kneels down next to Harry, placing the bottle of water in his hands.  "Drink this please."

"When he was teaching me about ad hominem attacks, I thought he was talking about homosexuals."  Harry looks at Niall with glassy eyes.  "Are you homosexual?"

"No I'm not."  Niall says.

"Are you homophobic?"  Harry leans his head back into the wall, letting it sink a little.

Niall snorts.  "No."

Harry takes a deep sigh.  "Oh good.  I was worried."

Niall ignores him and goes back to his desk.

"Niaaaaaaaaller."  Harry sing songs.

Niall doesn't respond.

"Niall?"  Harry crawls over to Niall's chair.

Niall still doesn't regard Harry.

Harry pouts.  "Did I do something wrong?"

Nothing.

Harry smirks and pulls out his phone.  "I think I'll call Louis."

"Harry!"  Niall cuts off.  "I think you have your lesson with Sarah soon.  You shouldn't be calling anybody."

Harry points to him and smiles.  "Why won't you talk to me about Louis?"

"Not in my job description."  Niall says.

"I could debate this argument with you."  Harry points to himself.  "And I'd win."

Niall pulls out his actual personal phone to read a text, then turns to Harry.  "Do you feel tipsy or drunk?"

"Hmmmmm."  Harry acts like he has to think about it.  "Tipsyyyyy!!!"

Niall types something back at his phone, then a minute later, regards Harry again.  "Sing the alphabet for me please."

Harry giggles and laughs and he thinks maybe he _is_ drunk because Niall just asked him to sing the alphabet for him.  After his fit of giggles dies down, he takes a deep breath and sings the alphabet perfectly in key and in order for Niall.

Niall nods and types something on his phone then looks back to Harry.  "You should go see if Sarah can take you early."  He glances to the clock that reads 10:11am.

That's when Harry remembers the article from this morning.  Suddenly, getting down to Sarah as soon as possible seems like the best idea. 

Harry stands too quickly- wobbling and crashing backwards into Niall's desk, making his monitor shake.

"Sorry!"  Harry exclaims.  "Wait- _shit_!"  He giggles.  "I'm _not_ sorry."

"Do you need as escort down?"  Niall asks boredly.

"Noooooo.  I was just there.  I know how to find it."  Harry staggers out of Niall's room and sends another text to Louis.

**H: 11 sorrys nOw whooooopsiei D:**

Harry passes his father's office and is about to continue on down the hall, but then decides he should check in with him.

The door creaks open and Desmond is Skyping one of their international sales teams.  When he sees Harry enter, he mutes his end of the conversation.

"Harry."  He smiles at Harry's state.  "How are things going?"

"Good!"  Harry clings to the door jamb and grins.  "Does this mean I ain't gotta meet with Pablo ever again?"

Desmond purses his lips.  "Not until you stop speaking like a hick."

"But I am a hick."  Harry argues back.

"Not while you're in this building."  Desmond clicks around on his computer.  "By the way, I'm blocking off your schedule for next Wednesday at 11.  Our legal team needs minutes of an arranged meeting with Metal Core as insurance that neither one of us will sue each other over the Vander Tech acquisition."

"Why don't the legal teams just do it?"  Harry scratches his neck and undoes another button on his shirt.

"They need CEO's signatures and handshakes due to the sensitive nature of the transaction."  Desmond says grimly.

Harry's mouth opens and his eyes light up.  "We're meeting with Louisssssss?!"

Desmond's face goes stoic.  "Yes, we're meeting with Mr. Tomlinson."

"Shit."  Harry bemoans.  "I forgot.  It's Mr. Tomlinson when I'm at work."

"Leave before I'm required to ask you more questions."  Desmond turns around to unmute his Skype conversation.

"Yes sir."  Harry wiggles his fingers at his dad.  "Byeeeee."

Harry plans to get in the elevator next, except he sees Liam at his desk.  "Leeyum!"

"Harry."  Liam says cautiously.

Harry puts his arms up on the tall ledge of Liam's desk and lays his face in them.  "I'm going to my social media training."

"That's great.  You seem to be having a good day."  Liam avoids eye contact and pokes around his shambolic desk.

"I believe in myself Liam.  I can be a leader too."  Harry recounts his affirmations.  "Are you having a good day?"

"Yes, just busy scheduling meetings for Desmond."  Liam grabs a pen to scribble notes into a planner.

"You should stop fucking up the times for them.  You make it harder for Niall to do his job."  Harry tells him.

Liam's eyes go wide.  "Sorry?"

"I don't say sorry.  I just tell it how it is."  Harry says confidently.

"Um, Harry... I think you should probably lay a little low."  Liam stands up and rounds the desk to put an arm around him.

"No.  I need to go to my social media lessons with Sarah next."  Harry makes grabby hands for the elevator.  "I have a thing I need to do."

"Well here, let me help you out."  Liam escorts Harry into the elevator.  "She's on 10 right?"

"Mmhmm."  Harry turns to look at himself in the elevator mirror. 

There's a tiny red stain on the collar of his silky pink shirt.  It's a tiny bit too small for his long torso, so the sides keep coming untucked and Harry keeps having to shove it back in.  It probably also has something to do with his love handles that have started developing since he's moved here.

Harry still works out diligently, but it's an hour of floor work outs at his house in the morning and an hour of running at lunch.  It's nothing when compared to his 16-hour work days on the farm.  His body isn't used to being so sedentary. 

"Liam, do you think I'm getting pudgy?"  Harry pokes at his sides.

Liam turns bright red.  "Um, no homo, but I think you're probably the fittest guy in the company."

"You're not homosexual?"  Harry leans in closer, and Liam takes a step back.

"No.  No.  Definitely not.  I am very much straight."  Liam says.

"Okayyyyy."  Harry says skeptically.

The elevator dings and Liam gently pushes Harry forward.  "Let's go then.  Easy now."

"I like you Liam.  We should be friends.  What do you do for fun?"  Harry asks, eager to make a new friend.

"I play competitive Punto, Raffa, Volo Bocce Ball."  Liam grabs the sleeve of Harry's shirt to keep him from running into a painting.

Harry cackles.  "What the fuck is that?"

Liam looks a little affronted by the curse word.  "Bocce Ball is a precision sport.  You roll or throw balls down a court and try to get your balls closer to pallino than your opponent's ball."

"So you _do_ play with balls!  I knew it!"  Harry exclaims, making a couple interns passing by drop their clipboards.

"Harry _shhh_!"  Liam hushes. 

"It's okay Liam.  I won't judge."  He lowers his voice to a stage whisper.  "I've seen things in Kentucky that you wouldn't believe."

Liam is crimson now and flags down Sarah from down the aisle of cubicles.  "Sarah!  Sarah- Harry is here early.  Can you take him into a back room away from people?"

Sarah quickly walks over in a way that looks like floating towards them and puts her arm out escort-style for Harry to take.  "Of course dear.  Thank you Liam.  Come on Haz, let's go to my bosses office."

"Did you just call me Haz?"  Harry looks down at her.  "What's a Haz?"

"In Britain it's how we do nicknames.  I wouldn't call you 'Hare.'  I'd call you 'Haz.'"  Sarah explains.  "Sorry though, I just realized I should probably be calling you Mr. Styles or something much more proper anyway.  I'm sorry."

"No!"  Harry protests.  "I like Haz.  You can call me Haz."

Sarah smiles.  "Okay, just around this corner here."

There's a woman sitting behind a large desk who looks up curiously at Sarah with Harry draped on her arm.

"We have a bit of a... situation.  May I use your office for the hour?"  Sarah requests.

"Of course."  The older woman allows.  "I'll leave you to it then."

She sits Harry down in a chair and takes the one next to him instead of the one that would put the desk between them.

"You're the first British girl I've ever known.  I seen Harry Potter a lot, but never heard a girl with a real-life British accent."  Harry smiles dopily at her.

"Do we need to skip lessons?  You seem a bit incapacitated.  I can just work on some things with your account while you sober up."  Sarah pulls a laptop from her bosses desk to pull up the web browser.

Harry shrugs and tries to look innocent.  "Sure."

When Sarah seems engulfed in whatever she's doing, Harry pulls out his phone to see a text from Louis.

**L: Keep counting and prepare your ass for tonight.**

Harry slaps a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting into laughter.

Sarah gives him a side eye, but doesn't say anything.

**H: I did aa bad thig. i callEd u louis 2 my dad D:**

Harry hopes Louis will punish him for breaking another rule.  Though it wasn't technically laid out like one, it was still something Louis said, which makes it law in Harry's book.

**L: You get rather rebellious when drunk, don't you? What kind of punishment do you think that deserves?**

Harry grins because he's clever enough to get punishments from Louis whenever he wants now.

**H: idk... butt i seen thi s article nd I dont likeit**

Harry attaches the screenshot he took earlier of the article that made him frown and sends it to Louis.

He waits and waits and waits, and doesn't get any notifications on his phone.  He wonders if he said something wrong.  He probably did.  He probably is being too gay to Louis.  Louis is probably repulsed by how much Harry wants him.  Harry should probably stop acting so attached to Louis.  Grady _hated_ when Harry got clingy.

With a new resolve, he puts his phone away, deciding to not talk to Louis again until tonight.  Unless Louis texts him first.  Because Harry would never ignore Louis.

"Sarah, are you dating anybody?"  Harry asks.

"Nope.  Single pringle but not looking to mingle."  She sing-songs.

"I like hearing you talk.  Can you say the pledge of allegiance so I can hear your accent more?"  Harry requests.

She laughs.  "That'd be a no.  Tell me more about you though.  What made you want to come to New York?"

Harry's has some good practice with this answer under his belt by now with his trainings from Pablo.  "I love Kentucky and running the farm out there was wonderful, but as I grew up some more I realized my real strength lies in running the business behind it all.  When my father approached me with the opportunity of a lifetime, I couldn't have been more thrilled."  He recites perfectly.

Sarah disregards her laptop to stare at Harry.  "Haz, I know I'm your employee technically.  But, we can be friends.  If you need someone to talk to..."

"We're already friends."  Harry pouts.

Sarah smiles.  "I mean, if you need to talk to somebody."

"About?"  Harry knocks his knees together.

"Anything."  Sarah says.

Harry looks over to her.  "Thank you.  I 'ppreciate that."

"Of course."  She lets out a small laugh then turns back to her screen at the chiming of a notification.  "Oh..."

Harry leans closer to her making the weight on the legs of the chair disperse unevenly and resulting in dumping Harry onto the ground.  Sarah yelps and Harry laughs into the commercial carpet.

"Sorreeeeyyyyy."  Harry giggles.  " _Shit_!" 

He pulls out his phone to stay responsible to the rules Louis told him.

**H: 12 :( i didnt mene twoooo**

"You okay Haz?"  Sarah reaches an arm down to help him up. 

Harry resituates himself in the chair and acts regal.  "You was saying?"

"Oh..."  Sarah looks to the computer.  "Louis mentioned you in an... odd... tweet..."

Harry's heartrate increases 10 fold.  "What'd he say?!"

Sarah pulls up the mention on her computer.  It's a quoted retweet of the article Harry sent to Louis. 

**@JennSelby The fact that you work for such a 'credible' paper and you would talk such rubbish is laughable. I am in fact dominant.**

Along with Louis' tweet is a link to a contradicting article with a press release titled: **Tomlinson projected to monopolize Styles**

Harry lets out a strangled squeal and covers his face with both hands.  He thinks it's probably bad that he wore light pink silk today because his sweat will surely show through to everyone.  His phone vibrates in his lap and he reads the text.

**L: 12 and counting it is. Now go check Twitter and tell me your color.**

Sarah taps her manicured nails nervously against the keyboard.  "Haz?  What do you want to do about this?  We can ignore it or-"

"Wait, wait, wait!  I got an idea-" Harry pauses her to think his plan through. 

He types in a couple searches into the web browser to find the picture he's looking for.

"I'm gonna draft a tweet, but I need you to proofread because my vision is still fucked up from the alcohol."  Harry attaches the picture, takes extra time typing his tweet, then hands it to Shelby.

"Looks good.  You sure you want to keep drawing attention to the banter though?"  Sarah double checks.

"He started it."  Is the best explanation Harry can come up with for her.

"Okay."  She says skeptically and hands the phone back to him.  "I'll let you do the honors then."

Harry's stomach does backflips as he sends it.

**@MetalCoreLouis I'm on Pacific then. Your move.**

Attached is a picture of the green property, Pacific Ave.

He grins until his cheeks hurt and watches as his follower count goes up and his mentions increase.  He notes, oddly, that there is a strong influx of young adult girls and guys that are following him now, as opposed to in the beginning when it was mostly other accounts related to businesses and press.

"Looks like he responded."  Sarah breaks him from his reverie and turns the laptop towards him again.

**@RootsHarry New York is much closer to the Atlantic. Sure that's not where you are... or do you need geography lessons again?**

Harry notes, as per the attached picture, that Atlantic Ave is a yellow property.

He quickly finds a picture of a cow grazing in a green pasture for good measure, attaches it, then tweets it along with some text.

**@MetalCoreLouis No, I'm definitely in the green ;)**

Harry wishes more than anything that he could see Louis.  See the way he's reacting and if it has half as much an effect on Louis as it does him. 

He wonders if Louis is riled up and how he's going to be punished tonight.  He can hardly breathe with the anticipation of it.

"Did he say anything back?"  Harry looks over at Sarah.

"Not yet."  She says suspiciously.  "Other than the industry mixer, have you ever met Louis in person?"

Harry goes bright red.  "Maybe once or twice.  Just seen him out and about."

"You don't seem very scared of him."  Sarah says.

"Why would people be scared of him?"  Harry furrows his eyebrows.

"Because he's an asshole with no mercy."  Sarah says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry shrugs and avoids a direct answer like Pablo taught him.  "Wild boars are scarier than any human'll ever be, 'n I managed to escape a sounder of them just fine."

"Sounder?"  Sarah lifts an eyebrow.

"Yeah, like a pack of 'em."  Harry says.

She nods slowly, then is pulled back to her computer by a notification.  "He replied again."

**@RootsHarry Duly noted. Return the favor and remember that nobody dominates me at my own game.**

His heart thuds out of his chest at every favorite or retweet.  Every person that sees the way Louis talks to him.  How they can't see that Louis is secretly in control of everything Harry does.  Harry loves feeling so exposed, yet protected.

"Well then."  Sarah says.

Harry sits on the floor and lays down because his whole body is tingly.  At this point he's not sure if it's the alcohol or Louis.  He's sure it's the latter though.

"Do you want to respond?"  Sarah asks.

"No."  Harry closes his eyes.  "No.  I'm good."

~~~

**/Sneak for next week/**

Harry nods feverishly, trying not to make any kind of small noise.  He thinks, even if he did, it may get lost in the music anyway.  He feels the item- that he's now deducted as being the paddle- move from its place next to his torso.

Louis rubs the long, wooden paddle up and down the insides and outsides of Harry's thighs that reminds him of that one time he was being frisked by a police officer.

Except, this time it's with a wooden paddle.  And Harry is scared shitless.

~~~


	12. Chapter 12

 

A/N: It's not midnight yet in Utah! Hah! Happy Friday friends ^_^

~~~                  

H

Harry slept through most the rest of the day, and when he woke up around 3, he had Cecelia help him purchase Brogue Boots and Chelseas.  She was thrilled with Harry's idea and asked him where he got the inspiration from.

Harry simply gave her a sheepish grin and said it was a suggestion from a friend. 

When he got back from the shopping though, Desmond had told him to take the weekend off to recover and spend some time reviewing and practicing everything he had learned.

So Harry happily left work early enough so that he could do some more shopping and interior decorating, then arrive at Louis' penthouse at exactly 6:54pm because he is always six minutes early wherever he goes.

He's still in his silky pink shirt and charcoal suit pants, then after shopping, changed into his black Brogues.  It didn't take long for him to grow fond of them because they remind him so much of his Tony Llamas.

Harry's breath catches as he approaches the door and hears a punk rock band blaring from the speakers.  He gingerly raises his hand to knock on the door, wondering if Louis will be able to hear him at all.

The door opens and _Louis_ \- Louis doesn't look like the Louis Harry has ever known.  The articles of Louis as a teen and young adult come to mind as Harry's lips pop open and pupils dilate.

Louis is in black jeans that are so tight that they show every obscene line of the bulge where his cock lies.  His shirt is a tight black button up- the front of it tucked in to show a studded belt with a guitar belt buckle- with short sleeves to show off leather wristbands, and the top two buttons undone.  There's a bright red skinny tie that been sloppily knotted to limply lie about three buttons down from where it should be tightened. 

The outfit alone is staggering to Harry, but what feels even more like he's gotten the wind knocked out of him is Louis' face.  His face is shaved and three shades paler than normal, eyes surrounded with thick obsidian eyeliner, and his hair looking completely disheveled like he may have recently fallen asleep upside down in a puddle of gel.

Harry is speechless.

"I'm going to the theatre afterwards.  Will my appearance be an issue?"  Louis explains stiffly.

Harry shakes his head dumbly.

"Then I suggest you take your shoes off, bend over my sofa, and pray your punishment doesn't get increased for making me wait on you."  He pointed an index finger that is painted black at the living room.

Harry topples over himself, trying to keep his eyes off Louis' legs.  When he's kicking his shoes off though, Louis closes the door and Harry nearly chokes at the way his bum is nearly bursting from the back of the black jeans.

He walks backwards a few steps so as to try and maintain eye contact with Louis' rear end as long as possible.  Louis turns quickly though and Harry's eyes immediately jump to his face. 

The makeup really enhances the very dark and very dangerous look that Louis shoots Harry, and Harry doesn't need to be told twice.  He turns around and unclasps his pants as Louis grabs something from the closet.

"Did I _tell you_ to take your pants off?" Louis asks rhetorically over the volume of the music.

Harry shakes his head.  "No!  Sorry- _shit_!"  Harry clenches his eyes shut and bends over the arm of the sofa.

"Baby."  Louis tsks.  "How many times is that today?"  He asks with a faux gentleness.

"13."  Harry states, praying that he won't be spanked 13 times.

His breath catches when Louis' hand touches his ass.  Slowly, slowly, his hand firmly rubs upward on the pink silk, gathering a little at the movement.  When he's at the nape of Harry's neck he grips firmly into a handful of curls.  "Tell me why you deserve to be punished Harry."

"Because you don't like when I apologize unnecessarily."  Harry repeats Louis' words. 

"Very good."  Something gets set next to Harry on the arm of the couch, then Louis' other hand kneads into Harry's cheeks, stimulating more blood flow in the area.  "Tell me your color baby."

"Green."  Harry says immediately, breathing heavily at the pulling of his hair.

"We're starting off with five spanks with the paddle.  You are not to look at me, and you are not to make any noise unless to use your colors.  Nod if you understand."  Louis releases Harry's hair.

Harry nods feverishly, trying not to make any kind of small noise.  He thinks, even if he did, it may get lost in the music anyway.  He feels the item- that he's now deducted as being the paddle- move from its place next to his torso.

Louis rubs the long, wooden paddle up and down the insides and outsides of Harry's thighs that reminds him of that one time he was being frisked by a police officer.

Except, this time it's with a wooden paddle.  And Harry is scared shitless.

He consoles himself in thinking that even five spanks from Louis' hand were bearable.  Not fun.  But bearable.  He can certainly handle five spanks from the paddle.  He certainly deserves it.  Apologizing unnecessarily and using it to manipulate Louis.  He should have known better.

The paddle leaves from where it was gently rubbing Harry's ass and Harry's heart stops in anticipation.  The first smack lands hard, but without much noise, as it is cushioned by the fabric of Harry's pants and underwear.

It makes him jerk, but not nearly as much as the way that spanking with Louis' hand had.  In fact, it makes him oddly reminiscent of home.  Amongst the punk music and the white leather sofas, Harry swears he can hear the sounds of his cows and smell the alfalfa.

The next one comes unexpectedly and Harry grunts in surprise.  The sting is hardly there and it's mostly a blunt force that makes Harry half expect to fall forward into mud.  Except it's only cold, white, hide that his hands grip into.

The third one makes Harry clench his cheeks together.  The force behind it is harder, but Harry finds that it hardly phases him mentally.  Physically, he's simply pushing his crotch further into the arm of the couch.

By the fourth spank of the paddle, Harry feels his ass welcome the hit.  As it's withdrawn from his body again, Harry finds that his crotch has become quite uncomfortable in the restraints of his pants.  He rubs forward a little more to get contact with his dick that's begging for stimulation.

When the final blow is delivered, it's when Harry has his dick pushed as far into the sofa as the arm will permit. 

There's something about the last one that Harry feels hit through his whole body.  It makes him feel contented with the world.

"Harry!  Look at me and tell me your color."  Louis rubs his hand up Harry's back similar to how he did before he got paddled.

Harry turns his neck to look at him, stunned again at the dark and brooding appearance of him.  "Very green."

Louis looks him up and down as if to see if he's lying or not.  He shifts his jaw back and forth until he finds the answer he's looking for.  "Are you ready for part two?"

Harry's mouth parts and his eyes widen a little.  "Yes please."

Louis slides his hand up and down on the paddle while looking at Harry.  "I want your pants and underwear off.  Down the hall, first door on the right.  Get on the bed and handcuff yourself to the headboard.  I'll be in momentarily."

If Harry thought his mouth could drop any further, he would fear for looking like a completely dumbstruck idiot.  As it were, he realizes Louis has asked him to _move_ , and he's torn between asking for just another spank or two with the paddle, or running and handcuffing himself as quickly as possible.

He sees a hint of something in Louis' black lined eyes.  If he were anyone else, he would call it agitation.  But Harry doesn't feel any hostility from it.  He interprets it more as a 'you have two seconds to leave my presence before I increase your punishment' type of look, and he scrambles to his feet.

Since it's the order in which Louis instructed, Harry unzips and pulls off his pants and underwear right in front of Louis and throws it over the arm of the couch.  Once that's done, he peels his knee-length socks off, then sets towards the hallway as the track changes to the next song.

Harry expected a bedroom to be the first door on the right. 

It's definitely not a bedroom.

Well, not strictly speaking.

There is certainly a bed there, but it's much larger than a bedroom.

Harry blinks a couple times, spurring himself into action so that Louis doesn't enter before he's completed the assigned task.  He picks up handcuffs that were set neatly on the pillow and attaches them around one of his wrists, threads it through the headboard, then binds his other wrist into it. 

The sensation reminds him of the few times he's been arrested- like for racing on public roads, possession of his hunting knives or guns found in his truck on school grounds, or general mischief- except the handcuffs, used for sexual pleasure, and are plastic. 

Harry wonders if he could break them. 

He lays flat on the bed and stares at the ceiling, flexing the muscles of his body to get a feel for his position.  There are contraptions hanging from the ceiling and they make Harry's head twirl.  He wonders what it would be like to be extended above everything- in view and in sight of everything.  He shivers thinking about it.

To his right are an assortment of equipment that remind Harry of the gym in his high school, except he very much thinks that they're probably not for bench pressing and pull ups.  Next to the equipment is an enormous armoire that is filled with things he's sure he doesn't even know the names of.

To his left is a wide open space and an X-frame on the wall with shackles on each corner.  The only thing that even borders intruding the vacancy is a long chain that's hung from the high ceiling.  He's not sure what the chain from the ceiling could be for, but he imagines the X-frame is likely for shackling someone in a medieval torture fashion.

The door finally opens- Harry notes there's a sink and a fire extinguisher next to it- and Louis walks in holding a stainless steel bowl.

He saunters to the bed where Harry has handcuffed himself and Harry continues craning his neck up to watch him.  He sits at the foot of the bed, casually pulling a smaller bowl out of the large one, then a knife. 

He looks to Harry.  "Color."

Harry's heart thuds and thinks this is possibly what it feels like for people who are about to parachute from 14,000 feet above ground level because what the hell is about to happen to him that involves two stainless steel bowls and a knife?

Harry doesn't back down though and he certainly doesn't get scared.  "Green."

"You get quite rebellious when you drink baby."  Louis reaches his hand into the bowl again to pull out one last item- a hand of ginger.  "Breaking a specific rule we've set and then begging for a punishment.  Do you still want more punishment for apologizing?"

Harry nods shamelessly, neck kinking more as he strains to watch Louis. 

"Too bad."  Louis picks up the knife and systematically inspects the longest finger of ginger. 

Harry's head spins because what are they doing if he's not still being punished for apologizing?  He wants to question Louis because he's confused.  But the thing that wins out in the end is Harry wanting to please Louis, and in order to do that, he thinks he still has to stay silent.

"You've already taken five spanks for apologizing."  Louis cuts it not at the joint, but instead in a parallel line into the palm of the ginger, creating an almost uniform width for the entire thing, leaving a wide flare at the base.  The excess ginger gets placed in the smaller stainless steel bowl.  "This is your punishment for trying to manipulate me.  For doing it on purpose.  Do you think you deserve a punishment for that baby?"

Harry nods again because yes.  Who the hell is he to try and manipulate Louis?  It was a terrible idea and he shouldn't have done it. 

He tries wriggling to unbunch his shirt from where it's hiked up to his shoulders, but to no avail.

Harry wishes Louis would look at him or regard him or give him some type of clue as to what's happening.  So far, Harry's had physical punishments from Louis, and the handcuffs- yeah he's heard of handcuffing- but ginger?  He wonders if it's just to make Harry associate the smell with his punishments.  Maybe it will become a frequent thing.

Harry lifts his head up a little further.  "Why're you-"

"Did I _say_ you could ask me questions?"  Louis snaps his neck to the side to glare at Harry.

"No."  He says meekly and lowers his head to rest on the pillow.  He doesn't deserve to look at Louis anymore since he's broken so many rules today.  Honestly, Harry deserves to be handcuffed to this bed for the rest of his life with the things he should get punishment for.

Harry stares at the contraptions on the ceiling as the punk rock band plays a little muffled from the living room.  He can't quite hear it clearly and it's enough to make Harry feel like he's been placed in a fish bowl or an insane asylum.

His hands fidget around, trying not to make too much noise with the plastic against the wooden headboard as he grips into the wood to feel it.  It's sturdy wood that Harry thinks he probably couldn't break if he tried. 

He can hear Louis.  He can feel the depression of Louis' weight at the end of the bed and he can hear him whittling away and paring the ginger.  He comes up with a dozen scenarios for which the contraption from the ceiling could be used, then finally closes his eyes because it's making him too fidgety. 

Except now it's dark and all he can focus on is the sound of the knife carving and muffled punk rock.  The ginger finally fills his nostrils and hits his senses all at once.  His eyes fly back open to stare at the ceiling- the potent smell of ginger being too strong of a smell for him to solely focus on.

He gets fidgety again, wrapping his fingers around the plastic rim of the handcuffs and feeling around for any kind of emergency release.  He finds the notch where it's supposed to be, but there's an absence of a protruding release mechanism.

He breathes a little lighter, realizing that he can't technically escape the handcuffs without the aid of Louis.  Harry's heart beats faster at the thought that he's willingly jumped on a bed and locked himself up for Louis- not even bothering to ask how or when he is to be released.

He cranes his neck up again to see what the hell Louis is doing because it's taking 10 years.  Maybe not 10 years, but _at least_ 20 minutes.

Louis is still paring the ginger.

Harry is patient as hell, but he's handcuffed to a headboard and the smell of ginger is infiltrating every molecule of air he's breathing in- like it's a tangible humidity that he feels on his throat with every breath.

Harry notes, now that he's been laying down for a substantial amount of time, that his bum is a little bit itchy from the paddling.  It's nothing compared to Louis' hand; and Harry's sure that was from the extra layer of clothing protecting him this time.

He kind of.  Harry kind of wishes Louis would have given him a couple more spanks with the paddle.  He certainly could have handled it.  It didn't feel _bad_.  In fact, he thinks about how his body tensed up and then he pushed his crotch into the arm of the couch and-

It smells like _ginger_ and Harry thinks he's going crazy.  His cock is filling with interest too.  He's not sure if it's the smell or the paddling or the thought of Louis casually dressed like a punk rocker sitting on the edge of a bed that Harry is handcuffed to. 

He grips into the plastic handcuffs a little harder and slides them up and down the headboard a little bit to try and distract himself.  If he keeps staring at Louis, his dick will only get harder and his neck will hurt.  If he keeps staring at the ceiling, he'll spin himself in circles over the contraption there.  If he closes his eyes, it's just fucking _ginger_ everywhere.

That's when the song changes and Harry realizes it's hardly been four minutes.

He wants to kick his feet out or sit up or _anything_ , but he can't.

An unanticipated whimper leaves his mouth and immediately he snaps his head up to see if Louis heard.

He did.

He doesn't stop working the ginger though.  "What did I say about making noises?"

Harry's mouth opens to speak, but then he realizes that would be strictly going against what rule Louis set forth in the beginning.  His eyes widen at a loss for words or response.

"Use your words.  Did you forget you weren't supposed to make noise?"  Louis says mockingly.

"I fucking remember things!"  Harry automatically barks out.

Louis slowly lets his hands drop into his lap and raises his eyebrows and Harry thinks he might puke. 

What the _fuck_ did he just do? 

Louis assess Harry up and down multiple times, making Harry feel a billions times smaller than he already does.  Harry tries to lie as limp as possible, submitting his punishment over to Louis because he's sure he broke probably a hundred rules.

Louis doesn't say anything though, and truly, it scares the living hell out of Harry.  He's used to Grady flipping his shit on Harry all the time.  Used to Richard or Anne or Des quick to call him out or yell at him.

Louis is silent though and when he picks up the smaller stainless steel bowl and heads towards the door, Harry thinks maybe he's fucked up so badly that Louis is going to leave him here forever.

He doesn't leave.  Instead, he fills the bowl in the sink and dips the oddly pared ginger gently into it.  He returns back to the bed, the rest of the items set to the ground.

Louis stands at the side of the bed, gazing down at Harry with a face that looks somewhere between soulless and a demon.  "Turn around and get on your knees."  He says with absolutely no room for negotiation.

Harry twists his arms into a pretzel to flip himself as quickly as possible and gets on his knees, leaving his face smooshed into the pillow.  He rests his ass against his feet so that it's not sticking 10 feet into the air.

It's not until Louis gets behind him on the bed and rubs at his ass cheeks- making it so Harry has to brace himself on his knees and stick his ass up in the air- when Harry realizes what the hell Louis is about to do with the ginger.

He breathes quicker and quicker and pointedly makes sure not to make any noise.

"Remember your colors."  Louis says as he rubs at Harry's rim. 

A beat passes, Harry assumes as time for him to color out- which he will _not_ \- and Louis removes his hand to slide the ginger into his ass.  It's freezing cold as the water gathers and drips around his rim and leaks down onto his sac.  The tapered end breaches his rim and stretches wider- the water acting as a lubricant. 

Harry can _feel_ the coldness all over his rim, but as it gets pushed deeper, he can't feel the temperature so much as the fullness that it gives him inside.  It's stretching wider than a cock as ever stretched him and Harry trusts Louis to know what he's doing because though it doesn't hurt, it certainly is distending his hole in a way that it hasn't been before.

The odd texture tickles his rim and he can feel the rounded and uneven ridges of the ginger as it gets pushed in.  Right when Harry wonders when it will stop, he suddenly feels his ass suck it in deeper with a prompt halt when the hilt of the ginger catches at his rim.

Louis' hands knead into the swell of Harry's ass.  "Baby you should see yourself.  You look so god damned good.  I want you to tell me how it feels."

"Full."  Harry clenches his eyes shut, wondering what he looks like to Louis.  Wondering how exposed he looks with a hilt of ginger sticking out from his ass and his face buried in the pillow.

Louis pinches and grabs Harry's ass and twists the ginger around and that sensation alone has him forgetting about his exposure and focusing solely on his bottom region.

The moment the warmth starts up, he can feel it.  It starts light- entering his body and feeling like he's sat too close to a fire for too long.  Then its suddenly that the warmth increases tenfold and he feels it in his stomach.  It's soothing, but too much, and his abs start to tense and release. 

It's not until his ass starts convulsing involuntarily that he realizes Louis has let go of him, and his eyes fly open to look for him.  Louis is still kneeling where he was before, smirking.  Harry's mouth parts open and he tries to will his rim to stop clenching around the ginger, but it won't stop.  It won't stop.

He begs Louis with his eyes to do something because every time his muscles clench, it shoots the hot ginger higher and stronger into every vein in his body until he feels his entire body sweating.  He wants to _rip_ his silky pink shirt off.  All he can think is hot, hot, _hot_ , _hot_ , _hot_.

Harry pants at the heat and the adrenaline that prick at his every pore and raises his responses.  He writhes in his restrained position, only to feel that it irritates the ginger even more, making it feel like lava on his insides.  He feels like running five miles to the top of a mountain then screaming and jumping off the cliff into a lake full of icy water.  But he _can't_.  He _can't_ do anything.  He _can't_ feel anything but the burning.

"You should hear yourself baby.  God, you sound _so_ good."  Louis runs his hands along Harry's calves and he feels so completely smothered by the touching and the warmth.

Harry didn't realize he was even making sounds.  Louis' voice sounds a little far off and he just feels heat in his ears and eyes and nose and lifts his body up higher to try and get to something.  He grips into the headboard, then tries bringing his hands to his stomach to calm it, only to find that he's still restrained.

"God, God, oh my God.  Fuck, please God."  Harry babbles.  His eyes frantically search Louis' for some kind of release because he needs to _move_.  He needs to run or jump or pace.  "Oh my God."  He pulls harder at the handcuffs.

There's a loud _snap_ and it jolts Harry from looking at Louis and his hands automatically fly down to his stomach with broken handcuffs to wrap his arms around himself and collapse onto the bed. 

Harry smothers his face in the bedsheets.  "Please, please, please, please, _please_."  He begs and clenches his thighs together, making the ginger spark through his body again.  " _Please_."

"What do you want baby?"  Louis asks steadily.

Harry turns over to look at him and realizes his vision is obscured by tears streaming down his face.  "I don't- please- I- I-" Harry cries and forces his body to relax, only for it to convulse again and shoot heat through every inch of skin.

He grips into the bedsheets and pillow case because his hands are too hot on his stomach and he has to release his energy onto _something_.  He whines and pleads for things that don't have names and sobs loudly into the linens.

Louis' hand fondles his ass again, twisting the ginger around and speaking lowly.  "Five more spanks with the paddle, then we'll bring you down."

Harry yells incoherently and muffled into the pillow, not sure if that's _exactly_ what he wants or exactly what he _doesn't_ want.

Louis grabs a different sized paddle from the chest and repositions himself at the foot of the bed.  It's that moment where Harry realizes with the spank of the paddle, his entire body is going to go into convulsions again.

But it's only a moment later when Louis smacks his ass with the paddle, making him feel like he's taken the leap from the top of the mountain.

The first one strikes him and it's like he's been put right back to the beginning when the fire started.  All over again, it's his body fighting against clenching, and desperately holding on to the feeling and chasing after it all at once.

"Fuck!"  Harry digs his fingernails into his scalp.

Louis gives it harder this time and Harry feels it wrack his entire body. 

" _Please_!"  Harry screams.

"What do you want baby?"  Louis says sounding far, far away.

"More please- oh my God-" He pants.

The pain doesn't register.  Only the feeling of the paddle on his other ass cheek.  It thrusts his whole body forward and it fills his body with satisfaction.

"Yes, _yes please_."  Harry doesn't know if Louis can hear him.  Doesn't know if he can even understand what he's saying if Louis _could_ hear him.

Another paddle- this time on his thighs- and the sound rings through Harry's ears, but no pain.  The snap of the wooden paddle is followed by a sob that Harry hears echo over the noise of the music and echo from wall to the other.

"Last one."  Harry hears Louis say somewhere in the distance and cries harder because _no_.

Harry hardly feels it.  His body hardly flinches and it doesn't bring the shooting spike he wants- craves- _needs_.

"No!"  Harry sobs, looking back at Louis.  "More, please, please, please."

"I say when your punishment starts and ends; and now it's over."  Louis says firmly, but not harshly, and pulls the ginger butt plug out to discard it into one of the stainless steel bowls.  "Hold on to the headboard while I wash my hands and get the lotion."

Harry cries and involuntarily kicks his legs out as if it will put the ginger back up his ass. He feels much, much too empty.  The burning is still everywhere, but he feels empty. So he wills his arms to move.  He tunes into that sole command from Louis and reaches his arms up to grip the headboard.  Louis is back behind him in seconds, lathering on the balm.

It's cold and that's all he can feel.

"Baby, can you tell me your color?"  Louis rubs the lotion down his thighs.

"Green."  Harry lets his body relax into Louis' hands as the burning diminishes.

"Earlier today when you were on the phone with me?  I want you to close your eyes again like that."  Louis instructs and pulls out his phone to swiftly turn the music off from the living room. 

The silence is louder than the music and Harry realizes his ears are ringing.  His whole body is ringing and vibrating too and he feels like his skin might pulsate off of him.

"Breathe in."  Louis' voice is soft next to his ear.  "Then out slowly."

Harry does as instructed, sniffling through it.  Louis gently picks up his wrists and sticks a pin into the hole to unlatch the broken handcuffs one by one, then tosses them to the floor.  Harry still kneels in the same position he was being spanked in.

"Again.  Breathe in with me."  Louis kisses his sweaty shoulder, then gently pulls Harry onto his side.

Harry lets his muscles collapse- not realizing how tense and strained they had been the whole time.  He weakly breathes in and out.

Louis undoes the buttons on his shirt one by one and helps Harry get his arms out, freeing him finally of the smothering silk.  With his skin feeling like it can breathe again, it's easier for Harry's next deep breath.  In sync with Louis, he breathes in, then out. 

"I'm right here for you baby.  Do you want me to touch you?"  Louis' breath tickles the back of his ear.

Harry nods, curling in on himself and scooting back into Louis.  Louis immediately threads both arms around his torso, rubbing and petting his sides and chest.

"You did so good.  I can't believe how well you took your punishment.  You're so good baby."  Louis coos into his ear and kisses the shell of it.

Louis' hands are so soft and so warm.  Harry shifts so he can turn and snuggle into Louis' chest.  Louis pulls his close, kissing his forehead and cheeks. 

Harry can't believe what he's hearing really.  It's everything opposite of anything Grady would say to him on any given day.  He has Louis not only in the same bed as him, but fondling him and taking care of him and telling him he did good.

He did good.  He took his punishment well and he pleased Louis.  He did good.

"Baby why are you still crying?"  Louis wipes away his tears.

Harry just shakes his head and shoves his face into Louis' neck, the black collar of his shirt tickling Harry's nose. 

"Breathe for me.  It's okay.  I've got you.  Breathe."  Louis gives him a soft squeeze to the bicep as reassurance.

Harry does.  He breathes and calms himself, but it's really only possible because Louis is touching him.  Because he can smell Louis and feel him.  His cologne is different than the one that smells like his suit; and Harry didn't realize he had attached different smells to him already.

At least it doesn't smell like ginger anymore.

Harry can feel the blood flow restoring homeostasis to his body.  He feels his weight again and how his nose is clogged from crying so much.

Crying.  Harry just spent a good amount of time crying at Louis.

He bites his lip and freezes.

"You alright Harry?"  Louis wraps a hand around the back of Harry's head to hold him securely.

"I'm so sor-" He bites his tongue when he remembers that's what got him here in the first place.  He could punch himself.

Louis pulls away from Harry to look at him.  "It's okay, talk to me for a minute.  What were you going to apologize for?"

Harry considers making something up or not saying anything at all.  But then he realizes it's already been done, so it doesn't matter if he apologizes or not, he may as well be honest about it.  "I was gonna say sorry for crying.  I get if you don't wanna do that again.  I didn't mean to be a pussy."

"Baby."  Louis says it tenderly.  "You're certainly not a pussy.  And you know I love it when you cry.  I was trying to make you as a matter of fact."

"You were?"  Harry flicks his eyes up to meet Louis' dark lined ones.

"Dacryphiliac, remember?"  He smiles, then falters when he sees Harry's expression.  "What?"

"I remember."  Harry says softly.

Understanding flits across Louis' face as he processes the information.  "Do you mind telling me what your explosion earlier was about?"

"Um."  Harry closes his eyes and rolls to lay on his back.  "I'm really good at remembering things.  I don't like when people think I'm forgetful."

"Any particular reason why?"  Louis thumbs at Harry's cheekbone.

"My, eherm... My parents took me for a fool.  Mostly my step dad.  Grady always thought I was stupid.  I know my father thinks I'm stupid."  Harry clenches his eyes to try and dissociate himself from the embarrassing information.

"I don't think you're stupid.  Or forgetful."  Louis reassures.  "However that's the first time you've yelled at me."

Harry bites at his lips again.  "I shouldn't have done that.  You can punish me if you want."  He turns to look at Louis and his messy fringe.

"We hadn't discussed it before.  As I've previously stated, I don't punish ignorance.  In the future though, I will add to your punishment if you yell at me.  Is that understood?"  Louis withdraws his hand from Harry to sit himself up.

"Yes, I understand."  Harry sits up and realizes he's naked.  He grabs his pink shirt to put back on.  There are sweat stains on it, but at least it's dry now.

Louis gets up and walks over to a mirror to adjust the red tie he had tucked in earlier.  "Good.  And everything was a true green?"

Harry sits at the edge of the bed and sets his feet on the floor, facing towards the X-frame on the wall.  He feels a hint of anxiety as he watches Louis.  "Yeah.  Was green the whole time."

"Excellent."  Louis flicks his fringe one more time then turns to face Harry.  "This went well.  We'll talk more later; I have to be going now as I'm already behind schedule.  There's a spare key I'd like you to keep.  It's in your left jacket pocket.  I'll text you later baby." 

Harry panics, feeling like Louis is disappearing much too quickly.  "Wait- I didn't- you didn't-" He stutters as Louis pauses in the doorway.  "You didn't get off.  You can fuck me."  He rushes out.

Louis looks at him like he has certainly misunderstood.  "BDSM is a lifestyle Harry.  It's not just about sex.  If you'd like, you can pleasure yourself while I'm out.  You are welcome to my bed, as I won't be home till around four since I have plans for after the show."

Harry feels like he's been submerged into the Arctic Ocean and very much wishes he had the kind of power over Louis to make him stay.  He wants Louis _here_ with him.  He pulls for an excuse or an emergency or _something_ and can't find it.  Until-

"I'll sign your contract!  The contract- I'll sign it."  Harry sits up straighter.

Louis' face doesn't give him away, but his eyes certainly do.  He looks conflicted.  "Right _now_?"

Harry nods vigorously.  "Yes please."

"Fuck, Harry-" Louis brings a hand to his forehead.  "Baby I need to go.  Can we do this tomorrow?"

Harry bites his lip and slouches a little.  "Yeah."

Louis jogs over to give him a kiss to the forehead and pointedly looks him in the eye.  "Stay here tonight.  I'll see if I can get home a little earlier."

Harry nods, but bites his tongue.

Louis gives him a peck to the lips.  "I'll see you later baby."

And with that, Louis leaves him.

~~~

**/Sneak peak for next week/**

His appetite is completely gone and he wishes Grady were here so he could make him food and feel pleased with himself.

He stares at his hot food for five minutes.

Then. He pulls his phone out and dials Grady.

It doesn't take long for him to answer.

~~~


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: A lot of you were curious what Louis was dressed like... Refer to the pic of Billie Joe in the collage and that's essentially what he's wearing ;)

Thank you for the follows, votes, and comments <3 You lot are so wonderful.

~~~

L

Paparazzi lights flash and Louis holds his black, leather Tommy Hilfiger jacket tighter to his chest to keep his black and red scarf tucked tightly in because it's always. Fucking. Windy. In New York.

The limo is right in front of his penthouse waiting for him since he should have been out here twelve minutes ago. The door flings open, a few more shutters go off, and Louis slides into the backseat.

"Good thing we're VIP or they'd kick us out for being late." Niall chastises from beside him.

"Oh shut up. We'll be there before the show starts." Louis reaches over to the bin where there are stacks of blankets. He grabs five to pile onto himself. "It's fucking freezing outside."

"You act like we didn't grow up in Brooklyn." Niall throws an arm around Louis' shoulder regardless to help warm him up. "Love the jacket by the way. Very classic look. Is it new?"

"Yep." Louis shudders and scoots closer into Niall's side. "Been saving it for this very event. You look more low-key than normal." Louis notes Niall's leather jacket with minimal adornment. Despite the more modest jacket, his hair is still grungy and he still has eye liner as thick as Louis'- sans glasses. They're both in black skinny jeans and Doc Martins.

"Looks like we're both growing up then. Our mothers would be proud." Niall chuckles.

"My mom's too busy snorting crack off her pimp's cock to realize I'm 28 instead of 18." Louis sighs. "Your mom though. She'd be proud. And probably kick me in the balls for keeping you in your 'rebellious phase' for so long."

"I still find that funny. I was always punk. Just never let her know that until you came along." Niall cackles.

His laugh never fails to remind Louis of when they were in middle school together. Niall came to school in polo shirts and khakis, then changed into his Hot Topic outfits in the bathroom before classes. Louis knew this because he was always there to touch up his eyeliner and Niall was always laughing at his failed attempts of putting his own on while simultaneously struggling into his skinny jeans.

The day they became friends is the day Louis finally taught him how to do it properly.

Louis smirks. "Well you can bring her tomorrows tabloids, slap them down on her breakfast bar, and tell her-"

Then they both chorus at the same time: "Punk is not a phase, it's a lifestyle!"

They collapse onto each other's shoulders laughing like the days haven't turned into months and years where they've developed responsibilities. When he's with like this with Niall, it's all about anarchy and teenage rebellion. Louis wonders how it manages to come back full force in times like these. He wonders if his teenage self will never truly leave him.

"God, when did we get old Niall?" Louis rests his head backwards to look at the roof that changes colors with the lights.

"We had to grow up sometime. Youthfulness just leeches out of us a little more each year." Niall says poetically.

"Jesus, that's not cynical at all. You almost sound like me." Louis grins.

"I can't have been your best friend for 14 years and not let you rub off on me." Niall grabs some of the blanket for his own lap.

"14 years hmm? In another 14 we'll be... 42." Louis laughs.

Niall reaches to grab the bottle of McCormick vodka. He takes a swig then passes it to Louis. "And at 42 are we still going to be dressing like punks to go to Broadway shows while getting drunk off cheap vodka?"

Louis chugs a few hearty shots. "Absofuckinglutely."

When the limo pulls up to the entrance, Louis is happily buzzed and yelling into Niall's ear about how fantastic tonight will be.

Stepping out of the limo, there are a predictable hoard of paparazzi that had been following them. Louis and Niall look at each other and grin, then flip everyone off on their way in- Niall making sure to shield his face. There are dozens of flashing lights and Louis almost loses his scarf _again_ , but manages to grab it before it blows away.

"Mr. Tomlinson and Mr. Horan." The usher greets him.

"Eddieeeee!" Louis slaps him on the shoulder. "Show us to our seats!"

"Right this way sir." Eddie shows them through the doors where everyone else is already seated and the lights are dimming.

Louis composes himself enough to not start singing or yelling and struts down the aisles littered with people in fucking designer suits because yes. This is what a punk who overcame a fucking shitty life looks like. This is what success looks like to Louis. This is what success _feels_ like. This is probably the pinnacle of his entire life and his best friend has been by his side through it all.

The curtains part and the cast for _American Idiot_ starts into their opening song, American Idiot. Louis has a tear in his eye by the time he and Niall finally sit down.

Louis doesn't cry often. He cried when his dad hit his mom. He cried when his mom chose heroin over a recovery program. He cried when he got his first tip of $100 from a wealthy businessman as a bellhop. He cried the first time he got dommed.

Tonight, though, adds a fifth event to where he allows himself to cry. Tonight isn't just another night at Broadway with Niall. Tonight is the night he reflects on the long fucking war he's fought to get here. Where he gets to shut his phone off for several hours because he has a global company in his hands. Where he gets to blend the destitute looks of his past and plaster it all over his multi-billionaire body to say 'fuck you' to the corporate America he's always loathed.

Tonight is the night Louis has overcome the chains of bondage to those wealthier and smarter than him.

When Billie Joe Armstrong enters the stage as a guest appearance to sing St. Jimmy is when Niall reaches over and squeezes Louis' arm.

Louis can't even bring himself to cheer and scream inappropriately with the rest of the audience because- yes he _obviously_ knew Billie Joe would be making a guest appearance tonight- but he's too choked up to do so.

When Louis met Niall at 14, his mom had sworn that she would take them to a Green Day concert. Louis had already saved up three birthdays and three Christmases of no presents for those concert tickets.

His mom said the tickets were ordered. They were just late in the mail.

When the day of the concert came, so did a new heroin batch and Louis didn't have to ask to know that the concert tickets had never been ordered in the first place.

He and Niall hitchhiked to the arena anyway and stood outside the venue. They could make out the heavy bass lines and the yelling and screaming. He could hear the faint traces of Billie Joe singing about repressed suburban youths. He could faintly hear everything that was just out of his grasp.

That was the night he told Niall he would do whatever it took. Whatever it took so that one day, he, Louis Tomlinson, would be rich enough to go to any show he ever wanted to. He would be able to buy all of the overpriced merchandise and food. He would get backstage VIP passes.

He would give a huge middle finger to the very catalyst that allowed him to be here tonight. The same conduit with broken government agencies that tossed his father to the side when he needed them most and turned him into the criminal he is today. Louis has always been good at taking the weakness in his life and turning them to play in his favor.

The intermission comes and Louis and Niall both laugh when they look at each other and see eyeliner smeared down their cheeks.

"Is it worth it to go to the bathroom and fix it? Or do you think we'll still bawl through the second half?" Niall laughs.

"God, we aren't ever talking about this outside of tonight." Louis brushes his fringe from off his eyebrows.

"You know I wouldn't. Personal lives are personal. Professional lives are professional." Niall nudges his shoulder.

"Mostly." Louis quirks an eyebrow at him, eluding to the fact that he was the one to persuade Niall into working for their competitor so he could get information from them.

"Right, right. Of course." Niall rolls his eyes.

On reflex, Louis pulls out his phone to turn it on and check it, but Niall puts his hand over Louis'.

"Not tonight, yeah? Just let your company run itself for a little while longer. If there was an earthquake or stock market crash somewhere, we'll deal with it tomorrow." Niall says. "You're much in need of this night off."

And Niall's right. Louis has needed this. Still needs this. It's only the beginning of the night. A very long deserved night. He hasn't felt this liberated in eight years.

Except.

"I actually just want to double check that I don't have any messages from Harry. I-" Louis rubs at his forehead, "I think- I don't know. Shit."

"That's why you were 12 minutes late?" Niall asks.

"Yep." Louis purses his lips.

"You did your aftercare thing with him, right?" Niall asks, since he can't have a best friend who's been in the BDSM scene for 10 years and not know the basics about it.

"I... _did_..." Louis feels like shit saying it though because he knows it was minimal effort on his part.

"But..." Niall encourages.

"I think he felt like I left him hanging. I forget that he's so _new_ to everything. Tonight would have been fine for a sub in a club; or one who trusts me to always be there for him and be back to shower them in attention..." Louis sighs. He knew he shouldn't have left Harry.

"But you went against your better judgement and now probably gave him trust issues?" Niall finishes.

"Fuck." Louis growls. "Fuck. He should be fine. He'll be fine right?"

"Louis." Niall deadpans.

"What?" Louis asks, affronted.

"If you're going to make an irresponsible decision, at least own up to it. Don't try and justify yourself out of the consequences." Niall reasons.

"Shit, I know." Louis looks up as the lights flash, indicating the end of the intermission drawing near. "He asked to sign the contract right as I was running out the door."

Niall's eyebrows lift, unamused.

"Fuck." Louis runs a hand through his hair. "I fucked up. Shit."

"Everything can be repaired." Niall consoles. "Well... most things..."

"Well, what's done is done. May as well finish out the night, yes?" Louis tries to lighten his voice.

"God, Louis, what did I _just_ say?" Niall says, exasperated.

"Fuck, _okay_. I'm making an irresponsible decision and ignoring Harry so I can have my night with you." Louis corrects himself.

"There's your balls!" Niall gives him a pat on the shoulder. "Now be prepared to hold my hand through the finale so I don't sob myself into a coma."

Louis lets go of his worries over Harry and smirks. "I knew you would fall for me one day Niall Horan."

"Oh fuck off." Niall laughs.

The lights dim, and the latter half of the show is everything Louis could have ever imagined. Louis does indeed hold Niall's hand through the finale. More for his own sake or Niall's, he's not sure.

After the final curtain call, Louis and Niall head to the VIP bathroom to fix up each other's eye liner. Louis thinks it's a beautiful parallel from his days in the middle school bathroom with Niall.

When they go backstage, Eddie lets them through with a simple nod of the head from Louis.

Niall and Louis compliment the cast members on their exemplary performance. But at the end of the line. There. _There_.

"Thank you for coming to the show tonight guys. Hope you enjoyed it." Billie Joe Armstrong holds out a hand for them to shake.

Louis grins, holding his hand out to shake. "Billie Joe Armstrong, I'm Louis William Tomlinson, CEO of Metal Core. I fucking love you."

Billie Joe's eyes widen a little bit and then he laughs. "Metal Core like-" he pulls his phone out from his back pocket, "like my smartphone?"

Niall chimes in and points to his phone. "I helped design that model."

"Well I'll be damned. Is this the new look of all CEO's? Because if so, I might finally try my hand at business." He jokes.

Louis and Niall laugh. Louis stares a little too long. He maybe had a couple hundred pictures of Billie Joe cut out and pasted into the inside of his locker in middle school.

"Well can I take a picture with you guys, or would you prefer something more old fashioned like an autograph?" Billie Joe offers.

"I'll take you up on both. But also wanted to offer to take you out after this. Niall and I know some great clubs to hit up. Mike, Tre, and Jason are invited too. Hell, Adrianne can come if she's in town." Louis offers.

Billie Joe laughs loudly at that. "Adrienne's at home with the kids, but I'm down and I'm sure the other guys would love a drink. I have another half hour here though."

"No worries. I'll have my limo driver out front when you're ready. When you get to the club just tell them you're with Tomlinson." Louis hikes up his shirt and pulls his pants down a little. "Also I'd love your autograph on my hip bone please."

Billie Joe uncaps his sharpie and bends down. Louis tries not to think about the implications of Billie Joe being on his knees in front of Louis or it will turn awkward rather quickly.

After he's finished signing Louis' sex line, he blows on the marker to dry it and Louis shivers. Niall's looking at him like he's just won the sun and Louis tries not to laugh.

"I've signed all over people's bodies, but I can't say I've ever signed along someone's hip bone before." Billie Joe caps the marker and sticks it back into his pocket.

"In the least creepy way possible, I'm getting it tattooed. I have the Mercedes Benz logo on the other side." Louis lets his shirt down.

"Yin and yang. I like it." Billie Joe nods approvingly. "Pictures now or later?"

"Let's do later. Don't want to hold you up. See you then." Louis gives him a smile.

"Again, fantastic show. I want American Idiot played at my funeral." Niall says with a wave.

Billie Joe salutes them. "We'll make it happen. See you soon."

~~~

H

Harry paces the empty scene room. Well, not empty. But it certainly feels that way with Louis gone.

He bites his lips and grabs at his hair and wishes Louis would walk back through the door for something- _anything_. Harry doesn't even know where Louis is going. 'A show', yes. But which one? For how long? With whom?

He feels suffocated in the scene room and walks into the living room. He paces there until remembering that he's still naked. He rushes to the arm of the couch to put on his earlier discarded clothes.

Harry thinks back on the paddle. Jesus, the paddle. Harry thinks he likes it.

But he can't. He pinches himself because that's way too gay and obviously Louis thought Harry liked it too much which is why he ran out the door as soon as he could.

Louis doesn't want to be around Harry. Harry certainly acted too gay.

And to make it worse, the sting on his ass keeps the blood flow heavy to his lower region. He didn't get off tonight and is completely in knots over it.

In the scene room, an orgasm was very low on his list of his priorities. All Harry wanted was more ginger and more paddle.

But now that those things have been removed, he really wants to get off.

He knows Louis gave him permission to. He probably only gave him permission to do so because he knew Harry wouldn't be able to help himself. Because he knew Harry liked it too much.

Harry pulls harder at his hair. He doesn't know what to do. He wants to leave- get a thousand miles away from his job and Louis' house and this sofa. But at the same time, all he wants is for Louis to tell him what to do. For Louis to be his leader and ensure he makes the right decisions and gets punished for the wrong ones.

He scrambles into the kitchen where the contract still sits. He thumbs through it quickly, hoping- praying- that it will give him some sort of direction or answers.

**Section 1.4.2. If the submissive needs to express his feelings in a way that are not within his role, or he feels uncomfortable with, and would like to discuss terms related to the contract, he will do so via text or email.**

It's there, yes. His answer. It's just not the one he wants because any time he opened his mouth to Grady or his parents about something serious, he was shut down.

He rubs his fists into his eyes because he _hates_ drawing attention to things that could land him in hot water. He hates being a pain in the ass to people. He hates doing anything but pleasing other people.

But maybe. Maybe if Louis does get upset. He'll come back. He'll come back and then...

Well. Harry doesn't know. He just knows he wants Louis here.

He pulls out his phone to text Louis.

**I don't know what to do**

He sends it, patting himself on the back for being honest. But after re-reading it several hundred times, he realizes he sounds like a complete idiot.

He quickly drafts up another text.

**I didn't mean to make you run off so soon by my gayness. I didn't enjoy it and I'm going home.**

He sends it. There. That will show Louis.

Harry grabs his jacket without over thinking it, then goes home.

~~~

L

Louis calmly walks away with Niall until they get into the limo again and both just sigh contentedly.

Their driver drops them off at the club and Louis gives him strict instructions on picking up the rest of the band back up at Broadway. Louis and Niall grab a table and order more cheap vodka to suppress the headache they're already getting from the earlier alcohol wearing off.

"Toast, to us." Louis clinks his glass against Niall's.

"To Louis of Suburbia." Niall cheers and they down their drinks in one go.

By the time Green Day shows up, Louis and Niall are happily buzzed. Louis doesn't drink any more in front of Billie Joe out of respect for his sobriety, but Niall drinks along with the rest of the bandmates.

The night is spent with Louis thanking Billie Joe for being an inspiration for his successful business ventures and Billie Joe thanking Louis for inventing smartphones.

"So do you come to this club often?" Billie Joe asks over the blaring music.

"Is that a terrible pick up line or a genuine question?" Louis laughs in spite of himself.

Billie Joe holds up his hands. "I've been out of the clubbing scene so long, I don't know what's cool anymore."

"To be honest with you," Louis takes a drink of his water, "these aren't really the clubs I go to anymore either."

Billie Joe raises his eyebrows. "Where do you normally hang out?"

"You won't have heard of them." Louis dismisses. "I have to say, thank you though for tonight. This has been great."

"Sure. Hit me up any time. I'll make sure to have my admin send out invites to you and your friend any time we're doing a gig or event." Billie Joe says.

Louis has been on a lot of special people's special lists. But none of them come close to being on the Green Day invite list. Particularly because Green Day had been on hiatus for the last many years during the time which Louis rose to fame which is why he hasn't met any of them earlier. But the sentiment still feels the same.

Louis clasps his hands together. "Great. I'll have my events coordinator put you on mine as well. I'm mostly throwing charity events these days, so nothing too crazy."

"I love charity events. Another reason I'm a fan of yours. All the charity work you do to promote and empower the LGBT community. I think it's fantastic. Wish there were more CEO's like you back in my day." Billie Joe says with a hint of humor.

"Oh God, don't act like you're old. Then I'm forced to admit my own age." Louis rolls his eyes.

"Louisssssss." Niall scoots over to him. "I'm drunk. We should go."

"Looks like that's a night for me. It's been fantastic." Louis holds out a hand for him to shake.

"If you want some pictures, I have to at least walk you out." Billie Joe says.

"Right." Louis says, having forgot about the hundreds of paps that will be awaiting his exit. "Let's go then."

The three of them get up and exit, and as predicted, hundreds of flashes go off. Niall runs ahead with his head down, always careful to try and not get papped with Louis so that Desmond doesn't become suspicious.

"Louis, it's been a great night." Billie Joe pulls Louis into a hug.

Louis opens his mouth to return the formality, but finds that his lips are muffled because Billie Joe is kissing him.

And yes, Louis very much knows Billie Joe is bisexual. Knows that he's kissed Bono several years back to promote that love is equal. Knows that his wife and kids are fine with the whole ordeal.

But Louis feels like this is one of his teenage dreams again. One where he wakes up sexually frustrated and wondering why life is such shit.

It was a quick and chaste kiss. And really, if Louis were to judge, it was more a friendly kiss than anything. Nothing significant behind it other than a kind goodbye.

Louis still walks back to the limo in a daze though, lights blinding him every step of the way.

He collapses into the side of the limo on Niall's lap. Niall shuts the door behind him.

"Did my brain make that up?" Louis asks to the color-changing roof.

"I'm drunk. You'll find out on Twitter tomorrow." Niall muses.

"He's so nice." Louis says.

"Maybe you should try and be more like him since you're an ass 99.9 percent of the time." Niall says.

"That's because I'm working 99.9 percent of the time." Louis says. "And you're a dick."

"Sometimes I miss the days when we weren't working our lives away." Niall says.

"I don't. When I wasn't working, I was starving and trying to care for my mother." Louis says.

"You know what I mean." Niall says.

"You mean you'd rather go back to when your family was broke as fuck because your brother kept breaking in and stealing everything from you guys?" Louis asks rhetorically.

"No." Niall sighs. "No, I guess not."

~~~

H

Harry listens to Conway Twitty on his way home. Grady always loved Conway Twitty.

Harry never really like Conway Twitty. But Grady did.

He knew it was a bad idea when he put the CD in. But when Hello Darlin' plays through his speakers, it _hurts_ , and that's what Harry needs right now. He needs to hurt because he's been way too gay and way too stupid and needs to feel bad about it because he deserves to.

He's angry at himself by the time he gets home. He kicks his shoes off and goes into the kitchen to warm up some biscuits and corn. He knocks his forehead against the cabinets a few times because he's a fucking idiot.

Harry doesn't belong in New York. He doesn't belong anywhere near it. He doesn't deserve to be around Louis. Around people who have their shit together.

Harry is like a lost sheep here, and everyone- including him- has known it since day one.

He can't wait for March fucking 26th. He can finally go home and go back to Grady and his cows and his chickens and get his life back.

The microwave beeps to startle Harry from his pity party and he pulls the food out. His appetite is completely gone and he wishes Grady were here so he could make him food and feel pleased with himself.

He stares at his hot food for five minutes.

He pulls his phone out and dials Grady. It doesn't take long for him to answer.

"More late night phone calls from the faggot in New York?" Grady jests.

And yes. Yes. Harry's stomach is already settling down. "Yeah. Sorry." He apologizes shamelessly since he's not accountable to Louis right now.

"The hell do you want? I bet your missing my cock you little gay cock sucker. That's what you want, isn't it?" Grady slurs a little.

Harry knows he's drinking and knows that Grady asked him not to call again, but Grady answered, and Harry isn't about to turn down phone sex.

"Yeah. 'M so sorry I'm gay." Harry thinks back to the way he whimpered for Louis. Thinks to how helpless he was and how gross Louis must have thought he was.

"You can keep apologizing, but it doesn't mean shit to me because you'll always be a little dick-licking pussy, won't you?" Grady says like it disgusts him.

Harry lays his face against the cool granite island and hates that he's so hard so quickly. "Yeah. Can I touch myself?" He unzips his pants and presses a hand against his dick.

"Go for it you selfish cunt." Grady allows. "That's all you ever want to do. Just touch yourself like a fucking animal."

Harry does. He does and it hurts him inside, but the hurt feels good because he deserves to hurt. "I-I'm sorry."

"Yeah you better be. You know if you were here, I'd cum all over your face so you couldn't breathe and then you'd lick it off like the faggot you are. God, you're so disgusting." Grady spits.

Harry bites his lip as he comes into his hand. "Sorry."

"You fuckin' done? 'Cuz I'm about to go get laid and I'm nice and hard for her now." Grady takes a noisy slurp of his beer.

Harry hangs up and cries into his arm.

When he finishes crying like a fucking child, he washes his hands and texts Louis.

**I need your help**

He lets the anger set in and starts working out.

~~~

L

When Louis gets home, he sees that his bed is very much empty.

He checks the scene room to see that the bed there is also empty.

There are no traces of Harry.

Louis paces his living room a dozen times before biting the bullet and turning his phone on. God, _he_ deserves a punishment for being so damn irresponsible.

There it is. Three texts from Harry that make Louis sick to his stomach.

Louis texts him back.

**Send me your address.**

It's four in the morning, yes, but Harry texts him back seconds later anyway.

Louis wipes the makeup off his face and throws a little gel in his hair. He switches from his black button up and tie into a navy blue button up, but decides to keep the skinny jeans on. He switches the belt out for something more low-key and puts on a pair of dress shoes.

Complete with a thick pea coat and burnt orange scarf, he makes his way out the door again for what he knows will be a long night.

~~~


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I will be changing the update schedule to once weekly, as I'm struggling to stay consistent with my update days lately. Again, thank you for the love and concern you've shown. I am going through a change in marital status, so I've been pulled away from writing and updating a lot the last couple weeks due to my responsibilities being required elsewhere. I am still committed to you guys though and very committed to completing this story. Also, I apologize for my lack of interaction with everyone- but please know I still go through every single one of your comments and notice what you guys are saying <3\. I do have a lot pre-written, so I will be able to continue uploading chapters weekly and hopefully things calm down enough to where it won't be so sporadic. I know it's Sunday and I missed the upload last week, so I'll do one more chapter today or later this week to make up for last week's missed one. 

That being said- I hope you guys enjoy and are able to take a break from any of your real life problems with reading <3 :)

And follow me on Twitter ^_^ [@dannieybarra](http://www.twitter.com/dannieybarra)

-Dannie

~~~ 

L

Louis knows he's outside Harry's door because, well, it smells like a farm.

Louis wonders how the absolute hell that is possible to accomplish in a penthouse in New York City. But apparently it is. He looks down at the cheap, brown AstroTurf Welcome Home mat underneath his 820 krona blue nubuck Aurlands.

He lifts his hand to knock, and right before he does so, there's a loud noise. Well- a... roar? Louis thinks roar might be a good way to describe it. In any case. It's loud and definitely made by a human.

He knocks quickly and loudly because the sooner he gets in there, the sooner he can take control of what sounds like a situation spiraling out of control.

The door opens a minute later. Harry is in shirtless and in gym shorts, sweat absolutely _pouring_ down his body. His hair is tied back with some old, ratty bandana with paisleys on it. A pair of ear buds are draped around his neck and there's an iPod strapped to his arm.

Louis tries not to horrifically look around the room and the fucking disaster that it is, so he focuses just on Harry instead.

"Are you going to invite me in?" Louis says impassively.

Harry doesn't say anything. Just opens the door wider and turns his head away from Louis to look at the floor.

The floor which is- horrifically- AstroTurf. Half of the damn living room has been reupholstered with it and Louis wonders if it's worse for his shoes or his feet to be touching the material.

The smell, he's determined, comes from the wall that's lined with open bags of feed. They're giant 50 pound bags. One of them has a chicken printed on it. One a cow, a horse, a sheep, a donkey, and so on. Louis questions Harry's mental stability because why the fuck does he have 10 plus open bags of livestock feed in his living room?

Or maybe that's not what he should be most concerned about. There's a bale of straw in the middle of the living room- the couch is pushed to the wall- and there's a plastic bull head sticking out from the edge of it; a lasso wrapped around its neck.

The walls have been covered in camouflage netting, alongside an American flag, and all the windows are open.

Louis isn't sure where to stand.

So he mostly just takes a couple steps into the entry way and waits for acknowledgment from Harry.

Louis often goes for indifference in approaching situations because it gives him time to fully assess what's going on and how to best react while still giving him a demeanor of 'I don't give a fuck.'

However, Louis goes for indifference this time, purely because the only other option would be complete flabbergastment.

Harry shuts the door and Louis doesn't know what to address first. The fact that he completely fucked Harry over by ditching him or the fact that Harry texted him asking for help.

"You came." Harry mumbles down at the ground.

Louis' first instinct is to correct his posture and mumbling, but he knows he needs to fucking chill until he finds out where Harry is at. "Of course. I told you I'd be back."

"Thought you were just saying that." Harry turns to grabs his plain white tee that is thrown carelessly on the couch.

"You think I just say things without meaning them?" Louis loses it. "You think I speak because I like to hear myself talk? Or is it because you think I give a damn about preserving people's feelings of goodwill for me?" He paces up to Harry and points to himself. "I don't fucking tell people I'm going to do something then not do it. I don't lie about ordering concert tickets, only to let someone find out the money was used for fucking drugs!"

Harry's head snaps up at him, completely confused. "You were supposed to be at a concert tonight and someone brought you drugs instead?"

Louis turns around to face the door and recompose his face. Tonight has been too long. Too close to home. Tonight is too much. He can't let his emotions control him. Louis Tomlinson is in fucking control.

He runs a hand through his hair and turns back around. "I always keep my word. I meant it when I said I was coming back."

Harry nods and puts his face in his hands. "I don't know what to do."

"You said as much over text." Louis recounts. "What you do depends on what you're trying to accomplish."

"I dunno that either. I'm fucking stupid and I don't belong here and I dunno what to do." Harry looks up at Louis.

Harry is, literally, looking up to Louis. Harry is looking at Louis for what to do.

"You want me to tell you what to do?" Louis asks, truly curious.

"I dunno." Harry repeats.

They're running in circles which is incredibly frustrating to Louis. Louis is the type of person to solve problems as efficiently as possible because time wasted is money wasted.

He knows relationships are different though, so he takes a breath and tries again.

"Let's back up, shall we?" Louis tries going more lighthearted. "Why don't you tell me everything that's on your mind? No more 'I don't knows.' Tell me what's wrong and why."

Harry nods and looks at the floor.

Louis doesn't want to sit on the sofa next to Harry because for him, it's too informal, and he needs to keep an air of dominance. Needs to keep his head on straight and not get emotionally caught up with Harry because then he won't be able to fix anything.

The kitchen is too far from the living room for a comfortable conversation, and the coffee table is shoved in another random corner.

That leaves the bale of hay with the cow head sticking out of it in the middle of the room. Which. No.

So Louis opts for standing. He folds his arms and waits for Harry to speak.

"I hate it here and I hate my father and I hate Grady so fucking much." Harry quivers with the anger in his voice.

Harry doesn't say anything more, so Louis take the hint to continue guiding the conversation. "Let's expound on each of those things. Why do you hate it here?"

"Because everyone looks down on me here and act like they have a stick up their ass. There's- there _are_ \- cars everywhere and all anyone cares about is their clothes and their fucking bank account." Harry says distastefully. "And it fucking stinks here."

Smells are completely a matter of opinion, really. If Harry's house smells good to him, God knows the city probably smells atrocious to his nose. Louis nods his head from side to side, trying not to smile. "You're not wrong. Now why do you hate your father?"

"He's a prick. All he cares about it me taking over his company and making a good impression. He kidnapped me from my home and I'm just his slave here. He lied to my mum about destroying evidence for a crime I didn't even know she committed and then fucking stabbed her in the back!" Harry growls at the ground.

Louis lifts his eyebrows. The plot thickens. He will need Niall to dig further into that.

"And Grady?" Louis prepares himself for an onslaught of homophobic remarks if Harry's first text is anything to base his mentality off of.

Harry stands up at that and storms passed Louis to kick the hay bale on its side with a loud grunt.

Well- Louis thought it would go on its side. It actually hurls across the entire room and slams against Harry's front door. The plastic cow head goes flying into his kitchen and the lasso gets caught on the door handle.

Louis coughs as a trail of hay dust settles into the air.

Harry goes over to pick up the bale- with one hand Louis might add- and then forcefully slams it back down to its original spot in the middle of the room. Another small puff of hay dust poofs around its new spot.

"When you're done throwing your tantrum, please resume your spot on the couch and use your words to tell me how you're feeling." Louis says boredly.

He does his best to not acknowledge Harry's strength. Well, mostly he tries not to think about the fact that he's been training diligently with Sasha for years and would still have to put both arms and his legs into lifting the pile of dried grass, and Harry looks like he came out of the womb with bales of hay dangling from his pinky fingers.

Harry drags his feet back to the couch and grabs at his curls. "He just- he- I- ugh!"

"Why are you angry with him?" Louis shifts his weight onto his other foot.

"I called him." Harry finally says.

Oh.

"Wh-" Louis cuts himself off before asking 'why.' He doesn't need to ask why. The _why_ is because Louis fucking left Harry and Harry needed someone stable in his life giving him reassurance in whatever form.

Louis grits his teeth and asks a different question. "What did you say to him?"

"Nothing!" Harry rushes out quickly. "I didn't say nothing. He knew why I was calling."

"And he knew because...?" Louis probes.

"'Cause I've called him before." Harry admits.

"When's the last time you called him?" Louis sighs. This is, apparently, going to be a problem he has to stop right now if he wants to make any progress with Harry.

Harry's chest heaves like he's still working out and throwing things across the room. "After I first met you."

Louis quirks an eyebrow.

Interesting.

"So you're angry because of the phone call you had with him? What did you talk about and how did your conversation differ from the last one?" Louis tries not to scrunch his nose at the too-strong smell of sweet and grassy animal feed to his right.

"He told me he was gonna fuck a girl." Harry says, closing his eyes.

Louis combats the urge to bite his nails- his worst habit that he's fought his whole life. He could play this several ways. He decides to go for a minimal response. "And that made you mad."

Harry nods.

Harry's really not helping Louis out here.

Louis waves his hand in the air to encourage Harry to keep talking. "That made you mad because...?"

"Because he's a dick! He knows I hate that. He knows I hate when he fucks girls and he does it anyway and tells me about it and rubs it in my face." Harry huffs.

Louis blinks. "So. You love him and you're jealous?"

"What?" Harry's head snaps up. "No."

Louis raises both eyebrows, but doesn't say anything.

"Maybe kind of." Harry backtracks. "'S complicated."

"So when you asked me for help. Are you asking for it to sort out your love life?" Louis summarizes before ripping into Harry for trying to drag Louis into his ex-fuck friend issues back home.

"No." Harry says immediately. "No. 'M done with Grady. I just- I don't want to talk to him anymore. I want to be done with him."

"Why do you need my help with that?" Louis gives him the chance to explain because Harry obviously takes a long-ass time to get to his point.

He shrugs though. "I dunno. When I'm with you- I dunno- I feel like, stronger."

"Explain that more." Louis says more for Harry's benefit than his own. He already knows where Harry is going with this.

"Um, like..." Harry struggles. "Mentally I think."

Louis is silent; waiting for more.

"Eherm, when I'm with you, you know? 'M not scared or worried because I know you're there. And if you ask me to do something, I know I can do it. I wanna be with you." Harry rubs the back of his neck with both hands. "Am I even making sense? I'm sor-" He cuts himself of with a frustrated sigh.

"You're making perfect sense. My only follow up question is..." Louis strokes where his beard should be, but is currently not, "how much of this is you wanting to get back at him? Remember, I don't want you lying to me."

Harry instantly looks guilty. And Louis doesn't blame him. He's human too. Everyone has the desire to get back at those who hurt them to whatever degree it may be.

Louis lets himself feel flattered that Harry is coming to Louis for that. Of course Louis is better for Harry than Grady. Of course Louis can give him more than Grady can. Of course Louis is smarter, wealthier, and more powerful than he ever will be.

"Just- just a little. I was confused because of tonight- well- last night. Then I called him and I- yeah I'm angry at him still, but also like, I wanna be better for me but also for you." Harry tries explaining.

Louis nods. "Harry, if we're to make this work, I need you to make one promise to me."

Harry nods, thinking it's a sufficient answer. When Louis still doesn't say anything, it hits him and he remembers to vocalize his assent. "I'll promise. Anything."

"Do you need to discuss the goings-on of your farm business with him or anything that is not related to your personal relationship?" Louis clarifies.

Harry shakes his head. "No."

"Perfect. You are never call him or answer calls from him again until I say so." Louis says. "This is not me isolating you from friends and family. This is me telling you what is best for your emotional and mental health right now."

"I promise." Harry nods again. "What's the punishment if I do?"

Louis almost laughs. "There is no punishment Harry. You will not. Therefore, there is no punishment necessary. It's a red. Do you understand?"

Harry's eyes widen to twice their original size. "I understand."

"Excellent. Does that settle your conflicts in that area?" Louis asks.

"Yes." Harry says.

The next part. Louis runs a hand through his hair. "Harry, there's something I need to discuss with you."

Harry looks completely unnerved and nods stiffly. "Okay."

"May I sit down?" Louis asks, since technically, Harry hasn't invited him to do so, and he would like to put himself more on Harry's level for this part.

Harry nods furiously. "I'm so sor- Shit, I mean, yeah. Sit down. Anywhere. D'you wanna drink?"

Louis' lips twitch into a smile. "I'd love a drink." He sits down onto the sofa that is still pushed against the wall.

Harry scrambles up and pulls an iced tea out of the fridge for him. "Tea okay?"

Louis inspects the cold drink suspiciously. "Sure."

Harry sits down next to Louis and watches him attentively.

"Harry, I fucked up." Louis starts off and Harry looks like he might run away. "I made a huge and careless mistake, and for that, I am truly sorry."

"Well, I told you I didn't enjoy it, so it's fine. I don't care. I don't wanna be gay anymore anyway." Harry defends.

It's a simple defense mechanism and there isn't any spirit behind his words, so Louis ignores it for now because that's an issue for another time.

"Regardless, I left you and I shouldn't have. What happened tonight- I should have stayed with you. I shouldn't have left and I especially shouldn't have ignored you all night." Louis says.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asks.

"Scenes can be- are- intense. They will especially be so for you since you are new to the lifestyle. A dominant's duty is to take proper care of their submissive after any scene. I did not do that to the best of my abilities and left you alone against my better judgement." Louis expands.

Harry looks very much like he doesn't know what to say.

"I want you to know that I'm here for you. I'm not looking to abandon you after doing scenes. I very much enjoyed our time together and I look forward to doing it again in the future." Louis thinks maybe that came out a bit businessy, but he can't blame himself. He is, after all, a businessman.

"You wanna do it again?" Harry asks.

"Yes. If you are comfortable with what happened." Louis says patiently.

"I'm not gay..." Harry says.

Louis hides an eye roll. "And I'm not a two-faced asshole."

Harry looks thoroughly confused. "I don't understand."

"That's the point." Louis decides to leave the point ambiguous. "Honestly Harry, I don't care what you identify as- as long as you're enjoying and consenting to what's happening- that's what I'm concerned about."

"You don't care if I was gay?" Harry asks, timidly.

"I very much would _not_ care. I'm gay. Why would I care if you were?" Louis tries to just answer Harry's questions as simply as possible.

"Oh." Harry says.

Louis takes a breath before continuing on. "Is everything sorted out then?"

Harry nods. "Except... Um, I feel stupid asking but eherm-" Harry pulls the bandana from his hair to let it fall loose, "what happened exactly? Like, it wasn't like sex. It was like, more. But we didn't even have sex."

God Louis should fucking fire himself.

He smooths out his hair and turns to Harry. "Did you ever take- I don't know- a psychology or physiology class in school?"

Harry shakes his head. "Biology, but that's it."

Okay, same difference. Kind of. "Well, all scenes are, is just manipulating the chemicals that the brain releases." Louis summarizes.

Harry looks very much like he's not following.

Jesus. Louis is not a school teacher. Not in the least, but this is something he's forced himself to study enough to understand for the sake of his lifestyle. He should at least be able to explain it to a sub. He's just never had to before.

"You've had adrenaline rushes before, yes?" Louis asks, mostly rhetorical.

Harry breathes a sigh of release, like they're finally on the same page again. "All the time on the farm. Or running from cops." There's a slight smirk that tugs at his lips that Louis very much makes a note of to ask about later.

"Adrenaline rushes are just a series of hormones being released. Last night was just an adrenaline rush. To be honest with you, there's a large portion of the BDSM society that are just a bunch of adrenaline junkies." Louis laughs in spite of himself. "Which, to be fair, it's a fantastic way to get a rush. Nothing wrong with that."

"It didn't feel like a normal one though." Harry looks nervously at his lap.

Louis nods. "Right. There's ways to heighten or... bend... the types of rushes you get, depending on the way you go about it. The paddling and ginger and handcuffs will obviously feel very different than free running from a crime you've just committed."

"That's... weird..." Harry says. "It was weird because it was like, sexual, but it wasn't. I thought I was going to like... y'know... _go_. But I didn't."

"Adrenaline is the first step to sexual arousal as well as a different thing called subspace- which I'll get into more in a minute. But adrenaline highs are what you feel during the first 10-25 minutes of a scene. Yesterday we were only at it for 15 minutes. I had the music going so I could keep track of time and clock where you were at mentally." Louis explains.

"You knew what was going on in my head?" Harry cocks his head to the side. "You were keeping track of the time?"

"Aside from having been a sub once myself, I do have a lot of experience with subs. Along with verbal and physical cues, paired with discussing things after scenes, I've gotten a pretty good idea of the mentality behind scenes from a sub's point of view." Louis decides on trying a sip of the iced tea and decides it is very much disgusting. He sets it to the side. "I always keep track of time, as I believe it is important for the dom to keep track of those kinds of things."

Harry picks up the iced tea for himself and takes a drink. He doesn't say anything, but keeps looking at Louis for more information.

Louis barrels on. "Between 20-30 minutes is when there is the opportunity for endorphins to be released. It heightens your tolerance to pain. I'm sure you're familiar with those as well?"

"Like a runner's high?" Harry sits up straighter.

"Exactly. You don't feel it right off. It's like a second wind." Louis says.

"Mona was a big runner. She talked about that all the time and had me go with her a few times so I knew what she was talking about. It feels like after I'm bucking hay for a long time." Harry supplies.

Louis has no idea what that even entails, but it seems like Harry is grasping the concept, so, yes. "That's the one; and if I'm able to read your body language correctly, I can manipulate when and how many endorphin releases you experience."

"Then what happens?" Harry blinks attentively.

"That's when your body decides to take a right turn or a left turn. One leading to an orgasm and the other to subspace." Louis smiles, proud of his successful teaching after almost 24 hours without sleep.

"You can't have both?" Harry asks.

"No." Louis purses his lips. "Physiologically speaking, no. They're completely different hormones that your brain releases. Have you ever been high?"

"Like on weed?" Harry bites his lip.

"Yes, or-" God forbid because Louis does not take well to subs with a long history of drug use, "-anything stronger."

"Weed, yeah. Was in the hospital for broken bones a lot when I was younger. So morphine too." Harry shrugs.

"The road to and area of subspace is similar. There are more pressing matters than an orgasm. Like the colors and textures of things, or feeling like your whole body is vibrating or flying, or listening in on specific sounds or music." Louis explains.

"That makes sense." Harry ruffles his hair up. "But you can't do it at the same time?"

"Just like doing drugs, the specific experiences will differ from person to person. Some may consider feeling high only if they're tingly. Some only if they start hallucinating. So in that way, it's dependent on the person. If feeling tingly is what you associate as being high- or in subspace- then yes, you could have an orgasm while in subspace. However true physiological subspace does not involve orgasms." Louis leans back into the couch. "None of it matters much for the sub at the end of the day as long as they feel good. I like to know the technicalities simply so that I can know how to give the best aftercare possible."

"Wow." Harry stares at his tea.

"I know it's a lot to take in. Like I said though, you truly don't need to worry about all of this unless you care. I'll be there with you through it all making sure that you're safe and enjoying it the entire time. That's my job." Louis lets out satisfied sigh.

"So, um, I know you like crying and... putting others in pain... but how does it-" Harry bites at his lip, "-what do you get from all of this?"

"Same thing you do. Chemicals." Louis shrugs. "More specifically, I'm after oxytocin and prolactin. The ones that make you feel satisfied with yourself and your partner after sex. Not chemicals you can get from strangers in sex dungeons."

"Innit what you get from normal sex?" Harry asks.

"Yes those are normal chemicals that occur after vanilla sex. What makes me difference is just preference. I prefer sadism to get to those chemicals and feel them to the fullest. Just as one prefers red velvet over funfetti." Louis furrows his eyebrows. "Or double fudge chocolate."

"You like cake?" Harry asks.

"I used to. My diet has just made me not enjoy food altogether. Tasty food makes me gain unhealthy weight. Healthy food doesn't suit my fancy." Louis says, grimly.

"You don't like anything?" It's Harry's turn to furrow his eyebrows at Louis.

"I like elk steak, I suppose." Louis recalls the last time he was on a business trip in New Zealand and was made a gourmet elk steak. That was certainly enjoyable.

The sun peaks over the horizon and Harry yawns.

"Are you working tomorrow- today?" Louis pulls out his phone to see that it's six in the morning.

"No. M'father had me take the weekend off." Harry's eyes go droopy.

"Well, I'm not only unaccustomed to relationships after being single for so long, but I am also out of my water with you not having signed the contract, so I suppose asking is customary. May I stay the night with you and spend the weekend with you?" Louis asks.

Harry yawns again. "You'd want that?"

"Very much so." Louis says in hopes of fixing his earlier fuck up.

At the worst, it will take a few more scenes to repair it. At the best, Harry will have forgiven him by morning. Louis is just glad he stopped the scene when he did yesterday so that they didn't get too far into things otherwise he'd be extremely concerned with the possibility of Harry continuing to sub drop.

As it were, Harry has worked out which helps cut that possibility in half, and Louis intends on spending the weekend with him, which should cut it out from being an issue altogether.

Harry stands and Louis sends a quick text to Zayn, telling him to take the day off, then follows Harry down his AstroTurf clad hallway. Louis almost gasps when he sees a large hunk of plywood leaning against the doorframe where a door should be.

Harry moves it to the side like it's the most common occurrence in history and lets Louis walk in first. More AstroTurf on the floor- no surprises there- and a completely hideous and ratty blanket that looks terrible for Louis' skin is the only thing on the bed.

Louis blinks. "You don't, per chance, have a comforter do you?"

"Oh." Harry puts the plywood back in place, then opens up his closet and pulls a giant, plush looking comforter from the corner. "Yeah, here."

Louis nods. He never thought he would be the one feeling something that seems awful close to discomfort in a situation as simple as sleeping in someone's bed.

Harry undresses completely, shuts the blinds and curtains, and hops right into his king sized bed.

Louis sighs. When in Rome.

He undresses- hanging his clothes up on the unused hangers in the closet. Harry's clothes seem to be sectioned into two very separate places. There's an overflowing pile of denim, flannel, and cotton coming from his suitcase. Then surrounding it on the floor are neat piles of silk and chiffon and starched polyester.

He folds his Topman briefs neatly on one of the unused shelves along with his socks and shoes. He turns around to see Harry looking at him with eyes bigger than the moon.

"Problem?" Louis gets into the unoccupied side of the bed.

Harry's curls flop as he shakes his head. "Never seen you naked before."

Oh.

"Well now you have." Louis reaches for the comforter.

"You have tattoos." Harry blushes.

Plural? No. Louis looks down to double check and- ah.

A Mercedes-Benz tattoo lies on his left sex line and Billie Joe's autograph along his right.

"One is permanent. One soon will be." Louis says simply.

Harry nods turns his nightstand lamp off. It's pitch black for a minute until their eyes adjust. Harry lies down and pulls the rag of a blanket over him. Louis wonders what the hell the deal with the quilt is because Harry very much should be wrapped in nothing but silk his entire life.

He pulls the comforter up over himself and lies on his side. "Let me spoon you baby."

Harry's breath hitches for a second, but then he scoots his body into the profile of Louis'.

Louis tucks his face into Harry's curls, ignoring the way it makes his face itch. It will get used to it soon enough.

He takes a deep breath in to smell remnants of Harry's sweaty hair, oats, and grass. He expects to be repulsed, but instead finds that it's very Harry and it's very... nice.

Then the silence is broken by Harry. "Do you call me baby because you think I am one?"

"No baby." Louis presses a kiss to the back of his head. "Term of endearment because you're the one I care for. I think you're incredibly strong and independent and intelligent. Does it bother you?"

Harry shakes his head, making Louis scrunch his nose at the curls that attack his nostrils. "'S long as you don't actually think I'm one. I like it."

"Good." Louis wraps his arms tighter aroundHarry. "Now go to sleep baby."

~~~

**/Sneak Peak for next upload/**

After an hour, Louis is still in the bathroom, though the shower is no longer running.  Harry takes the opportunity to sit and enjoy a glass of water and iced tea as he scrolls through Twitter.  Sarah and Cecelia would be proud on his ever increasing abilities with social media and keeping up with current events.

That's when he sees it though.

~~~


	15. Chapter 15

~~~

H

Harry's sleeping schedule is all sorts of off.  He finds he doesn't mind it much though when he wakes up in the arms of Louis.

It's fantastic is what it is.  He smells faintly of cologne, blended with a mix of his own sheets.  His skin is soft and he looks so very delicate a he sleeps.  It's completely different than when he's awake and abrasive.

Harry loves the look of Louis either way.  Whether he's strutting around in his designer outfits or completely stripped of it all and the harsh lines of his face dissolved with slumber.  Harry loves it.

He's awoken on his back, but with Louis' arms very much still pasted around his body. 

Sleeping with Louis was, in a word, warm.  It's still warm.  With Grady, it was the only form of softness Harry received and he clung to it.  Those nights he fell asleep in Grady's arms were the best.

But they don't come close in comparison to falling asleep in the arms of Louis.

He's sure it has a lot to do with the fact that the second Louis wakes up, Harry's anticipating being called 'baby' instead of 'worthless.'  And yes, maybe Harry is still worthless on the inside.  But he's also Louis' baby and that makes him feel a way.

He lets the warmth of Louis' energy and body radiate onto him and thinks he would probably do anything it takes to make this a daily occurrence.  He wonders if Louis will be pleased to wake up next to Harry or if he'll regret all of it when he opens his eyes.

As Harry's mind continues wandering, he realizes if he's to impress Louis, he should get up and make him breakfast.  With Grady, it was certainly an expectation.  Harry knew he would be making food for everyone in the house every day. 

Louis is peculiar and made Harry dinner once, but probably, _probably_ , expects Harry to take care of the rest of their meals when they're together. 

His heart beats faster and he's torn.  One side of him never wants to leave Louis' side, and the other very much needs to meet all the expectations Louis could have of him.

It's ultimately the need to please that gets Harry's body to slither away from the warmth of Louis and into the kitchen.

Harry finds, with odd observation, that his body doesn't hurt.  He isn't sure when that became an expectation; but his neck doesn't hurt from being strangled and there aren't 10 new bruises making an appearance on his body after waking up in the arms of a man.  And it's odd.

He rolls his shoulders and pulls out a skillet to make grits.

He has coffee on and a plate of grits, scrambled eggs, and bacon sitting at the counter.  He had put on a pair of boxers and Wranglers that were in the dryer from the previous day's load of laundry and decided it would do for breakfast attire.

Louis walks down the hall towards the kitchen and it's different.  It's different because it isn't his typical strut.  Or, well, it looks like that's what he's going for; but Harry can very much see the tiredness that's weaved in with the walk.

"Morning baby."  Louis is redressed in last night's clothes, minus the shoes, and leans against the island bar.  "What's all this?"

Shit.  Did Harry do it wrong?  He must have done it all wrong. 

"Breakfast?"  He tries.  "I can make you something different."

"No."  Louis walks over to the plate of food.  "Smells fucking fantastic."

Harry beams and pours Louis a cup of coffee.  "Coffee?"

"Perfect, thank you."  Louis sits on the barstool and picks up his fork.

"How do you take it?"  Harry reaches for the box of sweeteners that was already supplied with the house since Harry would never have a reason to buy coffee or any coffee related items.

"Black like my soul."  Louis says from behind him.

Harry turns around cautiously, not sure if Louis is joking or being serious.

He's joking. 

He thinks...

Harry ignores it and sets the cup of coffee next to him.

"What is this?"  Louis looks down at the corn porridge.

"Grits."  Harry supplies.

Louis raises his eyebrows nonsensically like he's sharing an inside sarcastic joke with his breakfast.

Harry sits next to him to eat his own plate of food.  "Did you sleep well?"

Louis takes a bite of the eggs first.  "Too well.  I very clearly remember not taking any drugs last night, but managed to have insanely vivid dreams regardless."

"What'd you dream about?"  Harry smiles sheepishly.

Louis rolls his wrist around in the air.  "Pastures and cows and thistles and things.  There was a mosquito I believe.  The sound of crickets.  You were a cow at one point."

Harry snorts out into laughter and Louis joins him.

"Which reminded me that I need to ask you.  What's the difference between a farmer and a cowboy?  Are they used interchangeably?"  Louis tries stabbing at the bacon with his fork and fails, so he moves to the grits.

"A farmer farms things.  A cowboy is a guy who tends to cattle."  Harry says.  "They could be used interchangeably if someone was a farmer and a cowboy."

Louis rolls his eyes.  "Thank you for the profound stem chart."

"Well like, you can farm crops or animals or both.  I kinda farm the cattle since they're used for dairy.  But I'm also tending to them too."  Harry tries clarifying.

"So you're a farmer cowboy?  Or cowboy farmer?"  Louis asks with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm a rancher farmer cowboy."  Harry smiles a little too and looks down at his breakfast.

Louis chuckles and continues eating.  "These are very exquisite by the way.  My compliments to the chef."

"The grits?"  Harry looks back up.  "They're just grits."

"Well they're exquisite grits because I deem them as such."  Louis pauses to drink his coffee. 

Harry feels the wonderful satisfaction of pleasure bloom through him. 

Louis tries stabbing at his bacon again, only to fail. 

Harry lifts an eyebrow and picks up his own bacon with his hands to eat it.  "Y'know you can eat bacon with your hands?"

Louis attempts to weave the prongs of the fork between the strip of bacon.  "I've got it handled just fine."

Harry munches on his bacon.  He's on his third strip by the time Louis gives up.  "I could get a spoon if you want?"

"I'm not going to eat bacon with a spoon."  Louis scoffs.

"Well you ain't eatin' it with your hands or a fork neither."  Harry chuckles.

Louis sets his utensils down in a way that makes Harry's light-hearted mood instantly drop. 

Louis is looking steadily at him; he breathes shallowly, seemingly deciding on what to say.  Harry sits up straighter in preparation of what he's done wrong.

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose.  "Harry, tell me about the lessons Desmond has you in."

"Well, there's social media with Sarah, leadership with Lenny, Cecelia with celebrities and current events, and public speaking with Pablo."  Harry lists off.

"And Pablo is the one in charge of teaching you how to debate and give speeches and things?"  Louis probes.

"Yeah.  He gives me real specific scripts though.  Like, I'm not supposed to stray from 'em unless I'm telling a antidote about the farm."  Harry says.

Louis' eyebrow twitches, then he seems to roll a thought around in his mind before speaking up again.  "Right now he's mainly focusing on your confidence and basic skill sets then?"

Harry shrugs.  "I suppose so.  I dunno."

Louis closes his eyes and makes a motion with his hand.  "There's a point, Harry, where skills are to be refined."  Louis takes another counted breath before continuing.  "I understand the position you've been put in- getting dragged here without prior preparation.  I understand the levels of stress you're dealing with not only because you're away from your home, but also under pressure of Desmond turning his company to you."

Harry blinks a few times.  "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying."  Louis says.  "That I'm now holding you responsible for speaking like a well-bred person.  Just as I would for any other sub or any person in my company."

Harry looks down to play with his fingers.  "So what does that mean for me?"

"It means I don't want to hear any more 'ums' or 'likes' or 'eherms' or atrocities of the semantics and grammar that hold the English language together."  Louis states.

"Okay..."  Harry's mind reels with trying to process that information.  "So is that like, part of our contract too?"

"Would you feel alright with adding it to the contract?"  Louis offers, generously.

"Sure.  I don't care much."  Harry shrugs.

"Excellent.  I will be correcting you if I am around.  After which, I will punish you as you repeat the phrase or sentence correctly."  Louis rings his wrists once, then goes back to attempting to stab the bacon.

Harry likes the sound of that punishment.  He never realized there was much of an issue with the way he's spoken before, but he's sure he fouls up on it all the time.  Which means punishments all the time.  Which Harry definitely deserves.

God, Harry is so glad he found Louis.

Louis looks like he's shooting laser beams into the unattainable bacon though and Harry very much would like to help him out. 

"Do you want me to like, feed it to you?"  Harry asks.

Louis whips his head to stare at Harry.  "I want you bending over the stool and asking me that question again without the use of the word 'like.'"  He says distastefully.

Harry nods frantically and slides off the barstool.  He was definitely not anticipating punishment for their new terms so quickly.  He supposes it goes to show just how often Harry fucks up.

He pulls his pants down to his knees and lays his torso on the stool.  Louis steps behind him.  "Say it again Harry."

"Um-"

Harry flinches as a loud slap smacks his ass and he yelps. 

"No 'ums.'"  Louis reaffirms.

Harry's instinct is to apologize, but before he even opens his mouth to do so, he remembers that unnecessary apologies are not in the books.  So instead, he purposely opens his mouth to ask his question properly.

"Do you-" Harry tries and is cut off by another spank.

"Keep going.  Get it out baby."  Louis rubs his ass.

Harry squinches his eyes shut.  "Do you want-"

He's cut off by another slap and jumps at it.

"Keep trying until you can say it loud and clear."  Louis commands.

He takes a pointed breath as Louis lays another slap on him.  Harry can do this.  Louis knows he can do this.  Louis is training him.  Training him and letting Harry please him.

Another spank pulls Harry from his thoughts and he knows he can do it.

"Do you want me to-" a hard slap, but Harry continues on as if it didn't happen "-feed it to you?"

Louis' hands go soft and he instantly drops to his knees to kiss Harry's ass cheeks.  "So good baby."  He rubs his hands soothingly in circles.  "That was perfect.  So good."  Another dozen kitten kisses across his bum, then Louis is helping pull Harry's pants back up.

Harry grins like he's just tasted the moon and sits on the barstool like he's been injected with an extra dose of life.  "Do you want me to feed it to you?"  He asks again; this time dopily and excited.

Louis composes himself upon the stool again and brushes out the wrinkles in his shirt.  When he's primped himself, he looks to Harry and smiles.  "That would be wonderful baby."

Harry can't say he's ever particularly desired to feed someone food.  But the idea of doing it for Louis simply enthuses him.

He cheerily picks up one of Louis' bacon strips and holds it in front of Louis' mouth for him to take.  Louis smiles as he opens and Harry delicately places it in his mouth.

There's a burning satisfaction that rushes through Harry at watching Louis enjoy the food and swallow it.  Like Harry's given him that enjoyment.  Like Harry is pleasing Louis.

He has the next bacon strip in place, but this time when he sets it in Louis' mouth, Louis makes sure to nip his fingertips.

Harry laughs as he yanks his hand back.  "Heeeyyy."

"You've got to be faster Harold."  Louis says, haughtily.

Harry is determined this time.  So when the third bacon strip is in his mouth, Harry pulls his hand away as quickly as possible.  Louis just misses his fingers this time.

"Ha!"  Harry grins with accomplishment.

Louis just lifts his eyebrows, then looks to the lonesome bacon left on the plate.  "Last one then.  Make it quick."

Harry suppresses his smile as he concentrates.  Louis keeps his mouth shut this time, so Harry has no idea when he's going to bite for the bacon.

Louis lunges forward though- taking Harry by complete surprise- and pulls him into a passionate hug to nip along the side of Harry's neck.

The bacon flings out of Harry's hand in surprise.  "Ah!  Louis- what-"

"You're much tastier than bacon.  Shh.  I'm just finishing up."  Louis says, sucking a small hickey into the side of his neck.

Harry feels a bit like squealing or rutting against Louis.  The lovebite isn't aggressive- contrary to the way Louis came on to him- but instead has a small pang of sting that is overpowered with the warmth of Louis' hands engulfing his body and the warmth of their torsos pressed together.  It's just warm, warm, warm.

Louis pulls away, pleased with his work.  "Thank you for breakfast baby."

Harry nods, still blushing violently.  "Anytime." 

Harry will definitely make breakfast for Louis every day the rest of his life if this is what it will be like.

"D'you wanna use my shower?"  Harry fiddles with his fingers again.

"I want you to bend over the stool and try that sentence again."  Louis' voice immediately drops.

Fuck.  _Fuck_. 

Harry berates himself the five seconds it takes for him to turn around and drop his pants again.  Then a strong slap has his mind is occupied on other things.

"D'you-"

"Annunciate."  Louis cuts him off with three slaps in succession.

Shit, fuck, shit.

"Do.  You.  Want."  Harry stops to take a breather because Louis isn't letting up on his ass this time.  Four more slaps.

"Do you want to use my shower?"  Harry gets out loud and clear.

Louis rubs his hands up and down Harry's back.  "Perfect baby."  A small kiss to the bottom of his spine and then his pants are being lifted up again.  "I would love a shower, thank you."

Harry breathes out in relief.  Thank God he did it right.  He can do this.  He thinks before he says his next sentence.  "The towels are fresh.  I washed them yesterday.  I have a spare toothbrush under the sink."

Louis gives him a peck on the lips.  "Excellent."

"'M gonna work out while-" Harry stops himself because Louis is rolling his eyes and _fuck_ , _fuck_!

Harry turns around and pulls his pants down quickly.  The first two spanks sting because his ass is getting rather heated up.

"I am going to work out while you shower if that is okay with you."  Harry says as another three spanks are administered.

Then it's the soothing touch of Louis' hands and a kiss to the dimples on his back.  "Absolutely baby." 

Harry just pushes his pants down the rest of the way and steps out of them because he's sure as hell he will fuck up between now and putting on his gym shorts.  They go back into Harry's room and Harry gets out a fresh pair of boxers and his shorts.

"How's your bum?"  Louis grazes his fingers over the warm skin.

"Hot."  Harry chooses his words carefully.  "It's fine though."

"After you shower, I'll put some oil on it.  I assume you have olive oil in your pantry?"  Louis undresses again.

Harry nods.  "Yes."

"Excellent."  His briefs are tossed onto the bed again.  "Enjoy your work out.  I'll be taking a lazy shower since I'm in the mood."  Louis says a little airily.

Harry smiles and runs the sentence in his head before saying it.  "Take as much time as you want."

Louis gives a slight nod of approval and Harry knows he's doing good.  He's doing fantastic and he _feels_ fucking fantastic about it.

Louis goes off to the bathroom and Harry to his in-home gym.  He puts on his country music while he runs for a half hour, then takes the last half hour to the floor in his living room.

He loves when the hay particles get stuck to his sweaty skin and the smell of the open chicken feed with every deep inhale.  The cool breeze from the windows make it truly feel like home and Harry can't wipe the grin from his face the entire time.

After an hour, Louis is still in the bathroom, though the shower is no longer running.  Harry takes the opportunity to sit and enjoy a glass of water and iced tea as he scrolls through Twitter.  Sarah and Cecelia would be proud on his ever increasing abilities with social media and keeping up with current events.

That's when he sees it though.

**Gay for Green Day?**

**Heated Kiss Between Billionaires!**

**Tomlinson and Armstrong- Secret Lovers?**

**Meet Louis Tomlinson: Homewrecker**

**BJ's for Billie Joe?**

**Broadway Bromances... Or More???**

**~~~**

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

  
~~~

L

Louis is just finishing his post-shower stretching when his phone vibrates.

It's a text from Harry.

**I'm confused**

He chuckles and wraps the towel around his waist again. He notes the shower is off and Harry is surely done with his shower by now. When he opens the bathroom door, Harry is sitting on the counter. "You're aware you're free to join me on your bed? And just... talk to me."

Harry sits on the counter and keeps staring at his phone. Then he types something else.

Louis' phone vibrates in his own hand again and he looks down to see what Harry's texted him.

**Section 1.4.2. If the submissive needs to express his feelings in a way that are not within his role, or he feels uncomfortable with, and would like to discuss terms related to the contract, he will do so via text or email.**

God damn. Louis thinks that is possibly verbatim from the contract. Harry looks up to seemingly gauge Louis' reaction.

"Baby, you haven't signed the contract yet. You can express your feelings however you'd like as long as it doesn't involve yelling at me." Louis takes the time to appreciate Harry following the rules regardless. "Unless you're uncomfortable? We can continue texting."

Harry shakes his head. "We can talk. I just wasn't sure."

Louis motions for Harry to join him out on the bed. He refastens his towel and runs a hand through his wet hair. "Why are you confused?"

"I'm confused because of section 2.2.1.6. 'The submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant.'" Harry quotes as he sits next to him.

"Pray tell how that is confusing." Louis lifts an eyebrow, very much impressed with Harry's memory. He wonders if he has a photographic one.

Harry opens up Twitter and clicks to the Top Trend where there's a picture of Louis locking lips with Billie Joe and _oh_.

Louis tries not to smile. "It was just a kiss and hardly one at that. Furthermore, neither of us has signed our contract, so there is nothing to be confused over."

"Well I don't really think it's fair." Harry argues back levelly.

"Well I think fair is only definable by which parameters are set in place. Since there currently aren't any, there are neither ways to prove nor disprove what is fair and what is not." Louis says diplomatically.

Harry raises his voice only enough to let Louis know he's getting emotional. "Like, I just feel like you mean more to me than I mean to you."

Louis' palm twitches. "I want you on all fours and trying that sentence again without the first 'like.'"

Harry's jaw drops like he's just been slapped across the face. Louis thinks he may argue it, but as he keeps his own face serious, Harry drops the attitude that was developing and pulls his towel off. On all fours, he hangs his head, waiting for punishment from Louis.

Louis gets onto his knees on the bed, making sure his towel doesn't fall and pinches at the apex of Harry's ass. It's still a light pink from the spanking earlier and continued blood flow from his work out and the hot shower. That also means his muscles are taut and looking ever so fit.

Louis gives him a quick warm up spank. "Let's hear it then." He spanks the other one with a snap and Harry flinches.

Harry's head hangs lower. "Um, I feel-"

Louis lays into him for four slaps in a row because if Harry is still comfortable enough to be lazy with his sentences, Louis isn't doing his job right.

"I feel like you mean more to me-" Louis gives him another three hard slaps that make him stutter, but not stop completely, "-t-than I mean to you."

"That will do." Louis gives him another light pinch and a kiss to the apex of his ass again. Harry slowly turns over to fix his towel situation again. Louis adjusts his own and sits cross-legged to face Harry. "You are to uphold your standard of speech regardless of the state of your emotions. Do you understand?"

Harry looks down at his lap. "Yes. I understand."

Louis doesn't require it just to be cruel. It's a vital skill that has to be learned in business. If Louis were to chew on his nails and slip out a 'fuck' when talking to someone superior to him, he would never have been able to make it to where he's at today.

Back to the conversation at hand, Louis picks up one of Harry's hands. "Look at me."

Harry slowly lifts his head up to meet Louis' gaze and some water drips from his curly hair and pools in his clavicle.

"We haven't known each other very long. I'm glad I mean something significant to you. Even though we've only known each other a month, you mean a lot to me too. However, you need to realize I run my relationships based off contracts. If there's something you want or don't want, I need for it to be in writing and signed." Louis says.

"Why though? Li-" Harry scrunches his nose to keep from using 'like' and tries again. "Why is it different than what we're doing right now?"

"It's different because neither of us are responsible to the other. Except in the general sense. It's the difference between having multiple hook-ups with someone and calling them your boyfriend." Louis says.

"Well I never had a boyfriend." Harry says instantly.

Louis opens his mouth to respond, then it clicks what Harry actually just said. He blinks because, right. He prioritizes though. "Firstly, you would say 'I've never had' or 'I have never had,' so try again."

Harry clenches his eyes shut then releases Louis' hand to turn around and expose his ass.

Louis decides to lose the towel because it's only proving to be precarious. He tosses it to the floor and gives Harry a downward slap down each cheek.

"I've never had a boyfriend." Harry says loud and clear.

Louis pulls Harry's towel the rest of the way off and tosses it to the floor next to his own. He kisses down Harry's thigh and calf. "Secondly, you deserve to know what it feels like to be treated like someone's boyfriend. You don't know what you're missing out on, simply because you don't understand."

Harry is silent while Louis takes some extra time to kiss around Harry's ankles. Then he makes his way back up along the crease of Harry's calf muscle.

"Would I be your boyfriend if I were also your submissive?" Harry turns his neck around to look at Louis.

"Absolutely." Louis sucks a small hickey into the back of his knee.

Harry shudders and makes a small noise. "I'm not... I wouldn't want to tell anybody."

"Oh but you would." Louis trails his nose up the inside of Harry's thigh until he reaches the bottom crease of Harry's ass. "You'll want to scream it from the rooftops."

"I'm not supposed to be gay..." Harry strains out.

Louis keeps Harry's cheeks pushed together and licks up the crease. "That's too bad." He spreads them apart then noses up and down Harry's crack. "I know some very gay things that can make you feel fantastic." He lets out a hot breath against Harry's rim.

"I-I-ah-" Harry stutters noncommittedly.

Louis licks right along the side of Harry's crack. "What was that?"

"W-what are you doing?" Harry breathes out.

Louis gives a kitten lick to his tailbone. "Something I only do with subs."

"Can I be your sub and unsure about being gay?" Harry looks over his shoulder to where Louis is rubbing his love handles.

"Absolutely." Louis massages up and down Harry's sides. "And you'd have me all to yourself. All the time, any time." Louis adds because he knows it's what Harry wants. "I can give you anything you want baby."

Harry nods in understanding, but doesn't say anything. Louis flips Harry so he's lying on his back. Harry's eyes go big when they meet Louis'.

Louis holds himself above Harry. "Where's your lube?"

"What?" Harry's eyes frantically search Louis' face.

He dips his neck down to kiss from Harry's temple down to his jaw. "I would very much like to have sex with you."

"You would?" Harry pulls his neck away from Louis. "You're angry at me?"

It's Louis' turn to pull away and give Harry a look. "What? No I'm not angry. Why the hell would I be?"

This is what Louis gets for trying to be vanilla. Getting accused of being angry. Go figure.

Harry looks panic-stricken. "Grady only fucked me if he was angry. Or if I made him angry."

"Baby sex is for-" What even is sex for? Louis shouldn't be the counselor for this kind of thing. "Sex is for enjoying each other. And bonding."

"That's what punishments are for then? When you're angry?" Harry looks very hard like he's trying to understand the situation. "Will I get punished after we have sex?"

Louis' head is spinning. Here he was, trying to enjoy a nice, slow, afternoon fuck and it turns into this. "Punishments are for rule breaking. I don't punish you when I'm angry. I'm not Desmond and I'm not Grady. Our relationship isn't on the premises of me finding things to be angry at you for."

"But you'll punish me after we have sex." Harry says it as a statement.

"No." Louis says firmly. "Sex is enjoyable. There is no punishment necessary- not for enjoying it or for being gay. You get to enjoy it. The end."

Harry still looks conflicted and Louis was, _was_ going to rough and rile Harry up a bit. But now. Now he's determined to make this as absolutely gentle as fucking possible.

He's pretty sure he'll fail.

Then again, Louis has overcome many a challenge he thought he would fail.

Determination anew, he looks Harry in the eyes. "May I fuck you?"

Okay, delivery could have been smoother. But he said it gently, so he'll give himself that.

"Yes please." Harry says quietly.

"Lube." Louis commands. "Where is it?"

"Nightstand." Harry reaches to grab it and Louis slaps his hand away.

"Let me take care of it." Louis pauses to pick Harry's hand back up and kiss it because he's doing pretty shitty so far at being gentle.

Harry closes his eyes and lays his hands down by his side. Louis procures the lube and then his phone goes off.

Which, Louis put it on Do Not Disturb, so only a select few people could be texting him. He ignores it anyway.

"I'm going to finger you now, okay baby?" Louis lubes his fingers up and uses his middle finger to prod at Harry's perineum until Harry nods his head again.

"Yes please." Harry holds onto his bedsheets in preparation.

Louis slides his middle finger inside and feels a jolt of excitement as he drags his fingers along the inside of Harry's walls. Harry's let out a breathy exhale and keeps his eyes shut tighter.

"I want you to look at me baby." Louis tucks his index finger in alongside his middle one.

Harry's eyes open and he looks at Louis; waiting for further instruction.

Which, Louis is trying not to instruct him. Normal sex is supposed to be very much mutual right? Louis did it like this once as a teen. The rest of the times before he entered into BDSM were for gain in money or career.

"Does this feel good?" Louis asks dumbly. He's never felt so out of depth.

Harry nods like he has no idea what's going on either.

It's habit for dominance to take over. For Daddy to be in charge. Neither are supposed to be in the picture right now though. For the first time in years, Louis doubts himself in the bedroom.

His phone rings and when an 8-bit version of _Holiday_ rings through the room, Louis knows it's Niall and just tries to ignore it.

Louis mechanically follows the steps to continue prepping Harry. He doesn't let his sudden drop in confidence show, otherwise they'll both be fucked. He scissors Harry slowly, watching the way his rim stretches around his fingers as they open and close while going in and out.

Before Niall even waits to go to voicemail, he's calling again and Louis considers turning his damn phone off because it's hard enough to get in the zone as-is. He's not even sure of what zone he's trying to get into.

He glances up to Harry's face and he has his eyes closed again.

"Look. At. Me." Louis says.

Harry's eyes instantly drop open, but he doesn't apologize.

"Good boy." Louis smirks and clusters his ring finger in with the others.

That makes Harry bite his lip, but he doesn't make a sound.

Fucking _Holiday_ plays halfway through three more times, then it finally stops.

Louis hopes Niall has a hangover from Hell as penance for ruining his vanilla scene. He notes that Harry is fully hard, but not reacting much other than biting his lip.

Louis pulls his fingers out. "You ready?"

"Are _you_?" Harry asks softly, but non-judgmentally, and Louis looks at him like he's just sprouted tentacles because why the fuck-

Louis isn't hard.

Louis does not, does _not_ , let his horror show on his face. _Normally_ , this would be an easy situation to fix: degrade the sub into thinking it's their fault he isn't hard yet; make them suck his cock; viola.

But no. This is Harry, so degrading him is off the table. And it's supposed to be vanilla. No dominance involved. It's Louis' own fault because he's overthinking and doubting himself and _God_ , he needs to stop thinking.

Luckily, whatever higher power exists saves him from his situation because his phone rings again, but this time with a call from Zayn.

"Fuck. Harry, I actually should get that. He's not in the office and let me just-" Louis dismounts the bed before he can embarrass himself further and leaps for his phone on the floor. He grasps onto it like his lifeline and uses his left hand to answer and hold it to his ear. "Tomlinson."

_"Mr. Tomlinson, I'm sorry to bother you-"_

"Get to the point. I don't have all day." Very much a lie. In fact, Louis would pay Zayn to preoccupy him for the rest of the day at this point. Louis doesn't think he can go through with his earlier plans.

_"There's been an earthquake in Vietnam and I didn't think much of it, but then I noticed several emails come in that seemed out of place and-"_

"Faster Malik. Spit it the fuck out." Louis paces, trying to think what relevance an earthquake in Vietnam has to his company. They have several retail stores located there, which means they likely took some damage.

 _"All E.M.S. facilities have collapsed. It's nothing but rubble. Mr. Styles' personal assistant has been on my ass to get a hold of you. They need you to cancel your non-compete clause with Wolfconn."_ Zayn rushes out.

Louis laughs manically.

 _"Mr. Tomlinson, do I have permission to exchange your personal contact information with Mr. Styles' P.A? He would like to set up a meeting with you ASAP."_ Zayn asks.

"I'm on my way to Roots. Go into the office and talk with the President of International Affairs. I want you working as his admin until otherwise noted. Good work Malik." Louis hangs up and looks to Harry. "Get dressed. Now."

Harry scrambles off the bed, not even bothering to ask questions. Louis grimaces at the fact that he'll be going in for business in black skinny jeans, loafers, and a button up. He's positive Desmond won't care though. Beggars can't be choosers.

"Get your phone but do not respond to any texts or calls until we get there." Louis shoves his own in his pocket and dashes to the mirror. "Do you have any hair product? I look 14."

Harry appears beside him in Wranglers and a white tee-shirt. "No."

"Great." Louis runs his hands through his still hair cursing that it can't be permanently quiffed for emergencies such as these. "Do you have a black skinny tie that is American made?"

Harry scratches his still dripping hair. "I have one from Walmart-"

"Fucking hell." Louis rolls his eyes. "Put your shoes on and let's go."

Harry struggles into a pair of cowboy boots and then jogs to catch up to Louis who already has his car keys in hand and the front door open. "Tick tock Harold."

"What's going on Louis?" Harry grabs his key and they rush into the elevator.

"Do you know E.M.S.?" Louis clicks the button to make the doors shut faster and then hits the basement floor.

"No." Harry furrows his eyebrows.

"Two years ago, Desmond signed a contract with E.M.S. as the new manufacturers for your products. He left Wolfconn with a middle finger in the air. Being the asshole I am, I sleighted a deal with Wolfconn's CEO and got him to sign a non-compete so that Wolfconn could never manufacture products for competing companies again. You with me so far?" Louis taps his foot as the number on the elevator gets smaller and smaller.

"So Roots can't get its products manufactured at Wolfconn?" Harry asks.

"Exactly." Louis buttons the cuffs on his shirt. "Your father has just committed business seppuku."

"Niall said that once. What is that? And what does that mean?" Harry asks a little panicked.

Louis rolls his eyes. Niall steals all the good lines from him. "Seppuku is a violent form of Japanese suicide. It means E.M.S. got crushed by the earthquake in Vietnam. It means Desmond dug his company's own grave."

" _What_ does that mean though?" Harry pushes.

"It _means_ , my love," the elevator dings and the doors to the parking garage open; Louis goes to adjust cuff links that aren't there, "that I have a global monopoly."

~~~

**/Sneak Peak for next upload/**

"What are your terms?"  Desmond asks without hesitation.

Louis nonchalantly rests an arm on the top of the sofa.  Conveniently, it's a mere inches away from looking like he has his arm thrown around Harry's shoulder, and very much creates the image that he's doing it anyway. 

If Harry was frozen in place before, he's a stone now. 

Desmond's upper lip twitches.

~~~


	17. Chapter 17

 

A/N: I know I'm still failing on the consistent updates, but I'm doing my best. Love you guys, love the support, and I still love this story as much as you do :) xx

  
~~~

L

Louis slides into his SLS AMG Mercedes and voice activates Niall over Bluetooth.

 _"About fucking time you answer my God damned phone calls you fucking cunt!"_ Niall yells through his car speakers.

"I've been informed of the situation. Are you at the office already?" Louis asks calmly and turns out onto the road.

Niall scoffs. _"What the fuck do you fucking think? Of course I'm at the fucking office! I'm about to lose my fucking job-"_

"Great." Louis cuts him off. "Grab a sub for Harry and I will you? We're on our way in and didn't have time for breakfast."

 _"Are you fucking kidding me Louis?!"_ Niall rages.

"You always have job security with my company. See you soon sweet cheeks." Louis smacks his lips to blow an audible kiss to Niall, then hangs up.

He checks to make sure that Harry's rickety red pickup truck is still behind him as he pulls into the parking garage for Roots. He drives over to a handicapped spot closest to the door and ignores a large influx of calls. He shuts his phone off and locks his car as he gets out.

He turns to look for Harry, who has parked across the lot to the only available open non-handicapped parking place. He sprints across the concrete to catch up to Louis who is already through the first set of doors.

There are moments in time where Louis wishes he could freeze the clock. This is one of those moments. If he could freeze the clock, he would sit his ass down on one of the tarnished leather couches in the lobby of Roots and scroll on Twitter for an hour to watch as the world falls into the palm of his hand.

After that, he would press play and watch as the mayhem ensued. As interns and secretaries and admins take off their heels to sprint up the stairs. As couriers race in and out of the front door delivering paperwork. As the phones ring off the hook. As the stocks crash and burn and people plead to a God that their livelihoods will be spared.

As people cry in helplessness and pain.

Louis very much wishes he could freeze the clock.

But Louis knows as well as any other Marvel loving fan, that with power comes responsibility; and this is one of those times that Louis must step up to the plate rather than sit back and watch the world burn.

He registers that Harry is beside him a second later and they round the corner into the elevator. He's so lost in his head space and adrenaline rush that he almost misses the way that Harry has started hyperventilating.

He immediately snaps out of it and puts his attention on Harry. "Baby what's wrong?"

Harry shakes his head, curls flying everywhere.

"Harry." Louis grabs his shoulders. "Talk to me."

Harry bites his lip. "My father is pissed that my phone was off all day. He hates me and I'm terrible. I don't belong here."

"Your father can fuck right off. You didn't answer any calls on your way here, did you?" Louis lifts his chin so they are looking eye-to-eye.

Harry shakes his head. "No. I just read the texts and listened to the voicemails."

"You belong here Harry. We'll be going in at the same time, so I hardly imagine he'll pay you much attention. I'll be there for you alright baby?" Louis thumbs along his jaw line.

"I just don't want him to yell at me." Harry whispers.

"I swear he won't, alright?" Louis promises.

Harry nods.

"Now, we're going to go in there and you're going to be confident and strong. You don't have to take any of his shit. This is his problem, not yours. Do you understand?" Louis says sternly.

"I understand." Harry repeats.

Louis flicks his eyes up to see that they're one floor away. Fuck it, Louis doesn't care if they get caught.

He leans in to kiss a very surprised Harry. Harry doesn't fight it; in fact, he seems to welcome it. It's a strong, but simple kiss. When the elevator dings signifying their arrival, they pull away from each other- Harry quicker than Louis- and the doors open.

Louis flicks his hair out of his face, huffing at the fact that he looks less put together than he has in years. He adjusts his cuffs, then strides forward fearlessly.

Niall runs out from his office with two subs and a stack of paperwork in his armpit- glasses askew- and looking very hungover. He assesses Louis with Harry in tow and approaches them.

"Mr. Tomlinson. Thank you for coming. Have a complimentary sub." He shoves the wrapped sandwich into Louis' hands. "Harry, I grabbed one for you too since I wasn't sure what we pulled you from." Niall says a little too strained, then shoves the other sandwich into Harry's hands.

"Oh. Thank you Niall." Harry furrows his eyebrows, looking from the sandwich back to Niall, then to Louis.

"Make sure my car doesn't get towed. I'm in handicapped. Is Desmond ready for us?" Louis says airily, then his lip twitches. "I mean, me?"

Niall laughs stalely like he might go Scarface on everyone in .02 seconds. "Yes. Mr. Styles' has been trying to contact you since the earthquake an hour ago."

Louis flits his unoccupied hand in the air. "See us in then."

Niall trudges forward to open the door to Desmond's terribly decorated office. "Mr. Styles-"

"Have you gotten a hold of-" Desmond marches forward when he sees Louis and Harry behind Niall. "Mr. Tomlinson! Where do you get off signing non-competes with Wolfconn?! Not only is that utterly illegal so much so that I could sue your company for all it's worth, but _also_ a matter of global economic stability! The government has every right to step in and overthrow your company with that arrogant move of yours!"

Louis notes that Harry is trembling behind him.

Louis steps forward to give Desmond a handshake and smile. "I think the matters of where I get off is far too personal to discuss."

He takes a seat in the ugly brown leather sofa and makes himself comfortable with his practiced sprezzatura. "Now I simply refuse to continue on with this conversation until you've calmed down some and Harry and I get to enjoy our complimentary sandwiches, as I have not gotten to breakfast yet."

He unfolds his sandwich and pats the spot next to him. "Harold, join me on the couch here."

Harry looks completely stunned, but shuffles over to the couch and sits where Louis specified.

"Desmond, have a seat." Louis flits his hand towards the leather swivel chair on the same side of the desk as the couch. "Mr. Horan, could you be so kind as to bring me a screwdriver and a Lemmy for Desmond?" Louis requests. "Oh, and whatever Harry would like as well."

Louis knows it's an iced tea, but the fact that Harry doesn't know that Niall is his best friend and Desmond doesn't know that Harry is sleeping with Louis or that Niall knows Louis well enough to expose all of his darkest secrets. So thus, Louis cannot automatically request an iced tea for Harry.

"Iced tea?" Niall asks. Harry nods.

"You think this is a joke Mr. Tomlinson? You want to do shots over my company crumbling beneath your feet?" Desmond isn't yelling, but he certainly isn't calm.

Louis snaps his fingers. "That's a fantastic idea." He turns to Niall again. "Mr. Horan. A round of cranberry Kamikazes to go with that."

"Absolutely Mr. Tomlinson." Niall fumes and storms out of the office.

Louis picks up his sandwich and takes a bite. Desmond goes to speak, but Louis holds up a finger to shush him. "After breakfast."

Desmond growls and stand up to pace over to his computer where he busies himself with the desecration of Roots.

Louis looks to Harry who is pale as an albino Axolotl. "Eat." He commands.

Harry looks nervously between Desmond and Louis, then tentatively takes a bite.

"Harry! Where were you all morning?" Desmond's attention turns to his son.

"Ah, ah, ah." Louis tsks. "Yelling will compromise my hearing, which I will very much need in just a few minutes to listen to your generous propositions you will offer me."

Desmond stands up to face Louis. "If you think this is a game-"

Louis snaps. "It _is_ a game. Desmond. And I've just fucking won it. I've monopolized the board and you're about to go bankrupt. You do _not_ get to pass Go and you do _not_ get to collect 200 dollars. So, I _kindly_ suggest you sit down and stop raising your voice and let me enjoy my breakfast in peace. We'll talk after I'm done."

Desmond's jaw sets in a hard line as he shakes his head in exasperation. He doesn't say another word though.

Harry is looking at Louis like he may have an aneurism. Louis wonders if Harry has ever seen anyone stand up to Desmond before. He chuckles at the memories of the first several time he ever met with Desmond and thinks Harry would possibly faint if he saw how Louis used to be.

Louis still might be a difficult shit, but he's grown up a lot and is better at dealing with his business as an adult.

Well. Mostly better. It won't stop him from reveling in his position of power or making Desmond gravel to him a little. He's only human after all.

Harry hardly nibbles on his sandwich, so Louis gives him a harsh side eye. Harry gets the hint and finally eats his damn sandwich.

Niall comes in through the door with a tray full of beverages. "Your drinks, sirs."

Louis sets his on the side table. "Thank you much Mr. Horan. You may carry on with your duties. I apologize for infringing on your time with my frivolous entreaties."

Niall scoffs as he hands Desmond his drink. "I'll be across the hall burning our redacted documents if you need me."

Louis laughs loudly, but apparently neither Desmond nor Harry found it half as funny as he did.

Niall leaves again and Louis holds his shot glass up. "Cheers." He doesn't bother waiting for Desmond to do the same, particularly because he doesn't want to infringe on pressuring Harry to drink. He plans on drinking Harry's anyway.

After he shoots it back, he tosses his rubbish in the bin and resumes his seat on the sofa. He picks up his screwdriver and mixes the ice around. "Now then. Where were we?"

"Revoke your non-compete." Desmond says instantly.

"You must be fantastic at pulling ladies. I am absolutely staggered at your charm." Louis sucks at his beverage daintily. "If you must know, I need at least four more shots before I'll go home with you."

"Louis." Desmond tries.

"Oh, so we _are_ on a first name basis? It's only been three years that we've been equal in superiority." Louis rolls his eyes.

Desmond slams his hand down on the desk, making Harry jump about 12 feet off the sofa. " _Mr. Tomlinson!_ "

Louis should be awarded for his long-suffering. " _Desmond_." He says boredly. "You and I both know I'll revoke the non-compete. There's no need to get your panties in a bunch."

Harry physically shoves his hands under his thighs and holds his breath.

Desmond stares at Louis. "You will?"

Louis scoffs. "I'm not a tyrant."

Desmond doesn't say anything. Harry definitely doesn't say anything. Louis reaches over to drink Harry's kamikaze. He does love a good cranberry shot.

"What's the catch?" Desmond says levelly.

"There isn't a catch. There will, however, be negotiations. Contracts always require negotiations." Louis crosses his legs.

He doesn't need to look at Harry to see the blush on his face. His embarrassment is exuding to everything within a mile radius.

"What are your terms?" Desmond asks without hesitation.

Louis nonchalantly rests an arm on the top of the sofa. Conveniently, it's a mere inches away from looking like he has his arm thrown around Harry's shoulder, and very much creates the image that he's doing it anyway.

If Harry was frozen in place before, he's a stone now.

Desmond's upper lip twitches.

"Firstly." Louis says easily. "I don't want any interference." He taps his fingers atop the sofa and the other one swirls his drink around.

Desmond's eyes flit from Harry to Louis several times. Louis knows Desmond knows he's referring to his and Harry's relationship. Harry has no idea what's going on. Louis and Desmond don't want him to.

"As long as it doesn't affect public image." He bargains.

"Already a non-issue." Louis dismisses.

"And I don't want it interfering with the dealings of my company." Desmond takes his shot.

"I have no control over that." Louis takes a sip of his drink.

He truly doesn't have control over how Harry will run Roots. He can't tell Harry what to do or not to do. Aside from that, he can't just say 'Harry, don't make business decisions based on me.' He can't ensure to Desmond that Harry will always make objective choices.

"My PI's have said otherwise." Desmond says slyly.

It's funny because Desmond thinks he's sly. Like Niall didn't tell him every time Desmond has set a host of private investigators to trail Louis.

As Louis has always lived, there isn't anything he actively fights to hide. People know he's gay. They know the upbringing he's had. Louis is the first to jump on mic stands and hump them to put others down by dragging his own reputation with it.

There has been plenty of speculation that Louis is a Dominant. He's been trailed by paparazzi into neighborhoods of his favorite sex dungeons. He's attended public events with his subs who acted like the very epitome of a sub and got people talking. One of his previous subs accidentally called him Daddy in front of a small group of CEO's.

It's there if people dig far enough. Louis just doesn't advertise that sector of his life.

But the fact that Desmond thinks Louis has control over human behavior? No. As Louis has always firmly practiced, human rights belong in all of his BDSM contracts.

"Tell your PI's that they gave you flawed information." Louis takes another sip of his drink. "But I'll do what I can."

Desmond taps his fingers against the table. "Very well. What are your other terms then?"

"I want rights to all of your intel and technology for the next 15 years. Pending patents included." Louis sets his empty drink down and inspects his nails.

Harry gasps beside him and Desmond looks like he may lose it.

Louis is very curious to see if he does.

"That is non-negotiable." Desmond says like it very much is negotiable.

Louis purses his lips. "Looks like you'll have to find another manufacturer then. I'm sure between Mokisa and P.H. you could plead your case. They'd be willing to compromise with a nice slice of your company as well as some rebranding, don't you think?"

"15 years is an absolutely ludicrous request to make." Desmond says like his company isn't about to be chopped up and sold for parts.

"Sounds like we need a third opinion." Louis turns to Harry.

All the color instantly drains from Harry's face.

"What do you think Harry?" Louis cocks his head in amusement.

"Harry isn't equipped to make such-"

"Let him speak for himself." Louis commands.

Desmond is silent.

Harry's pupils engorge as he stares frantically at Louis in silence. Louis smiles calmly. Ever confident that Harry will respond to his liking.

Louis doesn't even want or need Harry to agree with him. Just wants Harry to be able to feel like he can make a suggestion and have it be relevant. Louis would probably agree to whatever Harry puts on the table.

Harry looks like he's choosing his words very carefully. "Why don't you want to share our company, branding, and manufacturing with Mokisa or P.H.?" He directs the question towards Desmond.

Louis answers for Desmond though. "Because Desmond is actually a prideful son of a bitch who wants exclusive branding. Wouldn't want to spread those stocks too thin either, would we?" Louis turns to look at Desmond who confirms the statement with the slightest nod of the head.

Harry takes another audible breath before speaking. "Can we negotiate it down to 10 years?"

Louis smiles at Harry. Harry tries to hide his blush.

"Five years." Desmond instantly cuts in.

"I think I'll accept Harry's offer." Louis turns his attention to Desmond again. "10 years of rights to first product releases. Your company gets to stay standing with your branding. Nothing changes except I'm first to market with all your technology. You can release it six months later."

Desmond looks very much cornered.

"Three months." Harry jumps in.

Louis smirks and gives Harry an appreciative once over. Harry looks relieved that Louis is pleased with him.

"Three months." Louis confirms. "Those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

Desmond swallows. "Done."

Louis stands up and brushes off his black jeans. "I'll give Tenny a call and have him start on it immediately. My lawyers will be in contact with you."

He walks over to grasp Desmond's hand in a stale handshake. "As an immediate follow up, I suppose we're still scheduled to meet on Wednesday. Let's kill two birds with one stone, shall we?"

"Let's." Desmond says thinly.

"In the meantime. I expect _compassionate_ treatment towards _all_ of your employees." He pauses to make sure Desmond understands to not treat Harry like shit. "Take note that neither verbal nor hands on punishment are effective... especially during such trying times." Then tacks on as an afterthought. "I can't very well expect good performance from abused employees. Consequences will be set in place if I hear otherwise."

If it were possible, there would very much be smoke coming from Desmond's ears and nostrils. He grips Louis' hand harder. "I think you are the one with the current track record for that kind of treatment... with employees."

Louis lifts an eyebrow. "Perhaps. Though I'm the one who's proven it effective rather than detrimental."

"We'll see about that." Desmond grits out.

"We will indeed." Louis releases Desmond's hand, then walks over to Harry.

Harry jumps to his feet immediately.

"Harry, it was such a pleasure negotiating with you." Louis shakes his hand.

"Thank you Mr. Tomlinson." Harry says automatically.

Louis nods to them both one last time, then pulls out his phone to call Tenny.

~~~

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

  
~~~

H

Once Louis leaves his father's office, Harry waits and waits for the yelling to come.

It never does.

~~~

Harry's weekend off has turned into working overtime. He understands. It used to happen in Kentucky when a cow got sick. He's actually started to become useful though and Niall has him doing different parts of his own job.

The pressure for deadlines doesn't get to him much. They'll either make it or they won't and Harry doesn't bother getting as uptight over it as Niall seems to insist is required.

Liam has been teaching Harry different phone scripts all weekend and it's been incredibly helpful for him. Harry memorizes things quickly and now that he has a precise order in which to remember the words, it's easier for them to come out concisely and confidently.

Harry isn't perfect at cutting out his filler words yet, but he's certainly improved. Any time he catches himself, he verbally says the sentence out loud until he gets it right. Sometimes he's not even sure what's he's supposed to be saying instead though.

He sighs. "Liam, how would you say that right?"

Liam turns his attention away from his computer. "Sorry, what?"

"'It ain't never gonna happen.' What's the right way to say that? It isn't never going to happen?" Harry tries.

"Well you wouldn't want to make it a double-negative, so just change never to ever. 'It isn't ever going to happen.'" Liam says encouragingly.

"It isn't ever going to happen." Harry says again. "Okay. Thank you."

"Sure. And... what isn't ever going to happen exactly?" Liam asks.

"Oh, I just seen this email come through and this guy was saying he was going to sue you." Harry says, pointing to the email on his phone.

"Well if you're looking to improve your speech, you'd say 'saw' not- wait, _what_?" Liam grabs Harry's phone. "Me? Why me? Who is this from?"

"I don't know." Harry annunciates his words. "It's from someone named Esq., Georgio Abbandelli. I wonder what his first name is. Esquiso maybe? Esquago?"

"Harry that's- that's an abbreviation for Esquire. It means he's a lawyer." Liam says, still reading the email over. "It says he's affiliated with Metal Core and I'm being sued because- because I let sensitive information leak? About what?"

"I don't know. There's an attachment though." Harry reaches over to click on the document.

Liam is silent as he reads the first paragraph. Harry mostly gets lost after the first sentence. Liam gasps. "For information on the Vander Tech acquisition? I- I didn't tell anybody but you!"

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "Well I only told my father. How would Metal Core have found that out?"

"That makes no sense." Liam shakes his head, panicking. "I can't be sued! My rent is already overdue!"

Harry sets a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. I'll take care of it I think."

"What? You think? Oh my God, I'm going to get kicked out. I'm going to get fired." Liam lowers his voice so that no one hears.

"No!" Harry says quickly. "You won't get fired. It's fine. I'll get them to drop the charges."

"You can't do that." Liam drops his head into his hands. "I'm so screwed. I really needed this."

"Hang on, just give me like, five minutes." Harry grits his teeth at himself for using a filler word. "Just give me five minutes."

Harry steps away, feeling bad that he's left Liam to worry in a puddle of fear. He texts Louis.

**Hey... could you please not sue Liam? He's my friend.**

He paces around the lobby waiting. He wishes he had a Metal Core phone so that he could see when Louis has read his messages. It's one of the things he wants to ask the development team about for Roots phones.

It's a couple minutes of waiting and Harry is starting to wonder if maybe he's over sold himself. Maybe Louis doesn't care at all what Harry thinks.

But. Then again. The way that he turned to Harry to negotiate yesterday. Louis made him feel validated and important. Like Harry's opinions are important. Like Harry is smart enough to have good opinions.

On top of that, Louis chose Harry's terms. Not his father's.

Harry grins at his phone.

It vibrates seconds later.

**Sure baby. Can you please not steal acquisitions from me next time?**

Harry has to force himself so hard to not giggle. He types a reply to Louis.

**Sure :) Can I see you tonight?**

He feels bold for asking, but he knows that he's safe to do through text. He also thinks he's pretty sure he wants to sign the contract. He just wants every part of Louis. He wants to know Louis is his. He wants to be Louis'.

**Sorry babe, working around the clock to save Desmond's ass. See you Wednesday at our meeting?**

Harry's nodding at his phone before he realizes he has to text his response since Louis can't actually see him.

**See you then Mr. Tomlinson ;)**

He knows he can call Louis his name over text, but they're technically still at work. He thinks it's cute.

Well. Cute might be too gay. God, he hopes Louis doesn't take it that way.

But then again, Louis told him he doesn't care about it. He doesn't care. He told Harry that several times in several different ways. Maybe it's okay to be a little gay with Louis. Maybe Louis will like his smiley faces.

Louis texts back with a kissing emoji and Harry blushes. Maybe being a little gay is okay.

~~~

For the next two days Harry in in the office before everyone else and the last one to leave. The energy in the entire building is overdrive due to the publicity needed, financial repercussions, and stock dive from the earthquake to their manufacturing headquarters.

Between the criticism on how he's dressing from Cecelia, constantly making mistakes trying to help Niall, and his new lessons on international business relations with Irvin who is an asshole, Harry feels rather shitty about himself.

Harry's really good at keeping his problems to himself. Very practiced in bottling up his gripes and storing them in the recesses of his brain. He feels guilty about it though when Sarah is being so kind to him.

"Hazza, you just seem really off. Can I make you a cuppa?" She offers.

"What?" Harry asks, exasperated.

"A cup of tea?" She clarifies.

"Oh." Harry scratches at his hair. He had it tied back with a bandana earlier and Cecelia ripped him a new one over it. "Sure. That'd be nice."

"Be right back love." She gives him a soft pat to the shoulder.

Harry readjusts in his seat several times, trying to get comfortable in the suit pants. He remembers reading that they were a blend of polyester and spandex. He notes to never wear this pair again.

Why can't they just make denim acceptable for Wall Street? Or at least suit pants made of denim. At least he likes the silk ones. When did he start contemplating the material of suit he prefers?

He sighs. He can't wait to get home and get naked in all honesty.

Sarah comes back and sets the steaming hot cup of tea with a dash of milk in front of him. "It's my favorite brand of Yorkshire. I have my family mail it to me every couple months when I run out."

"Thank you." Harry stares at it, assuming he has to wait for it to cool down since it's not iced. What is the point in making a drink he can't intake immediately? He supposes he'll never know.

"Here, how about we go on Tumblr? We can just have a good skive; it's so late anyway." Sarah pulls out her phone.

One thing Lenny has been drilling into Harry's skull lately is that leaders aren't afraid to ask questions. They aren't afraid to embrace what they don't understand.

Harry gets awful tired of asking 'what does that mean' every five minutes though. He lives in New York for God's sake. He works at an enormous company. He doesn't understand 99.9 percent of the things going on around him at any given time.

He resigns himself to biting the bullet anyway. "What does that mean?"

"Sorry?" She asks.

"What's a skive? Is it like Skype?" He asks.

Sarah chuckles. "It's a British term. I think in America the equivalent would be 'goof off.'

Harry rubs his temples. At least he can categorize it in the 'foreign' slot in his brain rather than 'Harry's general incompetence in the world' slot.

"Your tea should be cooled down by now." She points out.

"Thanks." Harry shamelessly mumbles. Doesn't even correct himself.

This tea is... weird. It's definitely not sweet. He drinks as much as he can so as to not be impolite.

"It's good." He gives Sarah a fake smile. "So what's your British nickname? Saz?"

She shrugs. "Eh. Depends on the person. Me mum calls me Sally. Sisters call me Saz. Friends call me Sezza."

"That's a lot of names to go by." Harry holds his breath to take another sip of tea.

"It's normal over there. Not like everyone here. So formal all the time." She imitates a stiff businessman. "'Mr. Styles' will see you now.'"

Harry chuckles with her. "Hey, you sound just like Niall."

She slaps a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing too loud. "Oh my God, you're totally right."

"Do you know what his deal is by the way?" Harry pries.

Sarah bites her lips and shakes her head. "No idea. No one is close to Niall. He and Louis went to the same middle school and high school though. Everyone thinks he used to be bullied by Louis. That's why he's so uptight."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. This is all brand new information to him. "Louis used to bully people?"

Sarah looks amused. "What do you mean 'used to'?"

Harry's hackles rise, instantly needing to defend Louis. "I'm sure he just does what he thinks is best for his company. Just because he has a different way of running his business, doesn't make him a bully. People come to _him_ \- wanting to work for _his_ company. They know what they're getting themselves into."

Sarah blinks at him a few times.

' _Sorry. Sorry. Sorry._ ' Runs on repeat in Harry's head.

' _I don't want you apologizing unnecessarily_.' Louis' voice overpowers his own.

"I'm not feeling well. I'm going to go." Harry stands up and leaves Sarah.

When Harry gets in the elevator, he pounds his head against the doors a couple times. This week couldn't get any worse.

He only makes more and more mistakes as the day had went on and now he's just being a jerk. He pulls out his phone because 'unnecessarily' was the key word in Louis' command. He was a jerk to Sarah. He needs to apologize.

**Hey Sezza, I'm sorry for earlier. Just been a hard day.**

She texts back instantaneously.

**Don't worry about it Haz! Hope you feel better xx**

She's so kind about it and he knows she forgives him- Harry even loves the little x's- but it just doesn't curb the self-hate.

He deserves to be punished for being an asshole. And for being incompetent. And messing up. And pissing Niall off. And not being good enough for Desmond.

He grits his teeth in frustration because his conscience won't leave him alone.

Then he remembers. Conscience insurance. His and Louis' conversation.

_'I'll give you one free punishment a month. You may ask for it whenever you wish. I won't ask questions and you can atone for all of your wrongdoings during that time.'_

Harry rips his phone from his pocket so quickly that it flies out of his hand and drops on the floor of the elevator. Harry drops to his knees to pick it up and furiously texts Louis- still kneeling on the ground.

**Can I please have my free punishment soon? Please?**

He breathes heavily as the ding of the elevator snaps him from his phone. He looks up to see the doors open and Niall and Desmond examining him curiously.

"Dropped my phone." Harry jumps to his feet and brushes off his knees. He thinks he hears a small rip. Oh well. He didn't like these pants anyway.

"We're heading out. It's already 10pm and we need to be in by six again tomorrow." Desmond steps into the elevator.

"We're headed to dinner. Care to join?" Niall gets a notification on one of his phones.

"No thanks. I'll just go home." Harry presses the button for the parking garage.

"Harry, Mr. Tomlinson's secretary just requested to schedule an additional 30 minutes with you after your meeting tomorrow." Niall says, pulling out his iPad.

Niall's comment throws Harry terribly off guard and he tries not to look alarmed. It's just probably business things. Desmond is watching them both very carefully.

Harry was working with Liam enough today to know that he does have 30 minutes afterwards to spend with Louis, except it will cut into his normal lunchtime run. He thinks it's well worth it though.

"That's fine." Harry tries to say nonchalantly.

His father is still staring at him though and Niall is typing away on his phone.

Shortly after Niall puts his phone into his jacket, Harry's phone vibrates.

**Absolutely baby. We're on for tomorrow after our meeting.**

Harry can't help his face from going beet red. So it's not business things. Definitely not.

Niall just scheduled for Harry to be punished. In front of his own father.

The elevator is suddenly much too hot and Niall and Desmond are staring at him. There's no way they don't know what's happening. Louis making Harry completely flustered. It's happening right in front of their faces.

Harry types back a quick ' **thank you xx** ' since he liked how Sarah did that with him. He shoves his phone into his pocket and tries not to look into the elevator mirror surrounding him because he already feels much too exposed.

He considers taking off his jacket to stop himself from breaking a sweat, but doesn't want to draw more attention to himself than he already has. Niall is busy on his phone again, and Desmond stares stoically ahead at the closed elevator doors.

The floors go down one by one until _finally_ they're at the parking garage.

Harry paces quickly to his car. He can't wait for tomorrow.

~~~

**/Sneak Peek for Next Update/**

The further in Harry walks the more exposed he feels. His breath catches and he doesn't notice he's being led to the desk until Louis pushes him face down onto it.

Harry grips into the sides, having been pushed onto the short edge of the desk. To his left is the closed office door. To his right is a window overlooking the city. Behind him is another window that is a picturesque view of Roots.

The sharp pinch of Louis' fingers against his ass is what makes him focus back on Louis. And the fact that his pants are down already. His ass is exposed and facing the window that frames Roots.

Oh God. What if they can see him? What if his coworkers look out the window and can see Harry bent over Louis' desk? Why hasn't Harry ever realized Metal Core was just across the street from Roots?

There's a loud snap that makes Harry jump. He turns his head to see that Louis has whipped his leather belt out from his Calvin Klein suit pants.

~~~


	19. Chapter 19

 

A/N: Thank you so much for all the feedback with this story! It seems as if updates every two weeks seem to be the most doable schedule for me right now, so that's probably what it will continue to be. It's easier for me to update on Wattpad, so if you are in dire need each week for the new chapter, you can follow and read my stories on there. Username is LemonSuccubus as per normal :). Love you guys and thank you so much to each person who has read, kudos'd, and commented on this story!

Enjoy :)

-Dannie

~~~

"Did you grab the NDA's?" Desmond asks.

"Yes sir." Harry says.

"Do you have the documents from Shareen?" Desmond asks.

"Yes sir." Harry says.

"And Niall made sure they were signed?" Desmond asks.

"Yes sir." Harry says.

"And the stack of contracts from the legal office?" Desmond asks.

"Yes sir." Harry wonders if he recorded himself saying it and played it in response of everything Desmond asks for the rest of the day how effective it would be.

"You remember your role in this?" Desmond asks.

"Yes sir." Harry sighs.

"Which is...?" Desmond urges.

"Shadowing you and keeping silent. No opinions are to be shared." Harry repeats.

"Excellent." Desmond nods as the elevator door opens to the floor they were guided to.

The lobby of Metal Core has nothing on the conference room that Desmond and Harry are approaching. Every wall is glass. The carpets are sleek black. All of the furniture is white. There are enormous blown stained glass works of art hanging from the tall ceiling. The wall of the building overlooking the city is a window from floor to ceiling.

Harry loves it.

There's a liaison, lawyer, and public notary already sitting at the long conference table. A recording device sits center on the table and each of the persons already sitting down has their own neat piles of papers.

Riveting.

Harry sighs as he sits down next to Desmond, facing the expansive cityscape behind the glass.

"We're just waiting on Mr. Tomlinson." The notary speaks up.

"Of course we are." Desmond grumbles.

Harry pulls out his phone and opens up Instagram while they wait. He looks up pictures of baby cows and chickens and smiles at his phone. He favorites them all.

He's just come across an adorable picture of a little girl with chicks eating seed out of her hand when everyone's attention turns to the silent glass door that's been opened.

Before Harry even looks though, he can feel it. He can feel the air of dominance from Louis when he walks into a room. Harry has a grin on his face and shivers up his spine before he can help it.

Louis is dressed sharp as ever, walking like he's 6'8" and not 5'8". Harry loves it.

He takes a seat at the head of the table and leans cozily back into the chair. "Well boys. Shall we start?"

Harry bites his lip to keep from responding verbally or physically. He shoves his phone between his legs and stares at his hands.

The notary turns on the recorder. They take turns stating their name and position, then the attorney starts reading through the contract.

Harry plays absolutely no part in the next hour since the contracts are all between Louis and Desmond. He's about ready to bash his head against the conference table or jump through the giant glass window. His ass is falling asleep and he's trying not to drink too many iced teas or else he'll have to use the bathroom.

He's pushing at his brow bones with his fingers, wishing he could be on his farm milking the cows. He wonders how Carly is doing. He hopes Douglas is still watching out after her. He feels bad for killing Henrietta. Maybe he was too harsh. She only pecked him after all.

No. It hurt. She had it coming.

"Harry!"

Harry's head snaps up to Desmond. "Sor- Yes?" He instantly corrects himself.

"We need your affirmative as a witness to the transaction." Desmond says.

"Yes sir. It... happened." He says, then wonders if that even answers the question. He looks to the notary who just nods in approval while the attorney writes something down.

Louis stifles a laugh under his hand. Harry blushes.

That's when papers start getting slid across the table in every which way. Papers are handed to Desmond and Harry and Louis and the notary and the attorney and the liaison and it's a mess. Harry doesn't know what to do with any of them.

"Harry," Desmond shoves a paper back into his hand, "you're supposed to sign this."

"Yes sir." Harry pulls a pen out of his pocket and signs his name in chicken scratch next to his printed name.

"And this one." Desmond shoves another paper to him.

"Yes sir." Harry scrambles to keep them organized and shoves a few towards Louis.

Louis pushes another paper back to him. "Harry, did you sign this one?"

"Yes sir." Harry responds automatically.

The papers stop shuffling.

Desmond coughs loudly like he may be choking. Louis' face goes from surprise to utter amusement.

Harry rips off his jacket because the room's temperature has spiked and his skin is boiling. His face feels like it might melt off because it's reaching volcanic heat levels.

Harry just scrambles to grab the next paper from Desmond and scribble his signature on it. He shoves it towards Louis without looking at him. He can feel Louis' eyes piercing into him though.

He chances a glance up to the three men across the table who don't seem to have found anything amiss or strange.

God, Harry can't believe he just called Louis 'sir' in front of everyone. Completely embarrassed himself after Louis so obviously addressed Harry as his equal, then Harry responding to him as if he's his superior.

Which. He is. Except nobody is supposed to know that.

He's definitely in dire need of his punishment following the meeting. The thought makes more fire run through his veins and he really needs to stop thinking about things that compromise his ability to see straight.

"You missed this one. Sign it." Louis pushes a paper back towards him.

Harry's knee-jerk reaction is to apologize- as always. But he knows better. And then a memory surfaces.

_'You keep saying you're sorry, but all I see is someone very worked up and very much enjoying this whole situation. Tell me Harry. Are you enjoying this? The public humiliation and ridicule from me?'_

Harry's heart thuds out of his chest and he keeps his gaze focused on the table. Louis is allowing Harry the option of continuing to embarrass himself. It's not even a question because both Louis and Harry know that he wants it. "Yes sir."

Desmond audibly exhales something between shock and exasperation.

Harry bites his bottom lip before glancing up at Louis.

Louis looks smug as fuck. Looks like he may as well be wearing a king's crown and royal purple robes sitting atop a throne of some country somewhere.

Louis seems to get the memo. "Can't wait to see how paperwork goes when he takes over the company. Looks like you boys will need to stick around to make sure Harry doesn't completely fuck up all the business transactions."

Harry can't breathe. He can't breathe and it's wonderful. All words are lost and have died in his throat. He doesn't even know how anyone else is reacting to it because he's focusing on just signing another couple papers and shuffling between them to make sure he signed all of them.

He shoves them towards Louis. When Desmond's hand comes into view, his knuckles are white and the veins are viciously protruding from his skin as he passes another paper to Harry.

His father is not pleased.

Louis is very pleased.

"Harry, you signed the wrong line. Do it right this time." Another paper from Louis is given back to Harry on top of the one Desmond had just given to him.

Harry is very pleased. "Yes sir."

"Maybe you could hire some orphan off the street to take over the signing of important documents for Harry. At least they could figure out where they're supposed to be signing." Louis tsks.

Desmond clears his throat and Harry's hand trembles as he signs on the correct line this time. He passes it back to Louis.

"You know, I always thought 'chicken scratch' was a nice way of putting it; but it really does look like some of Harry's cocks have joined us up in New York to scratch about on his signature line." Louis muses.

Harry squeaks at that, wondering if this is what it feels like to have a heart attack.

Louis holds the paper up and makes a scene of squinting at it. "I'm thinking either a penmanship classes or a translator should help the attorneys decipher this."

"That's quite enough Mr. Tomlinson." Desmond grits out.

"It's fine. I never attended English classes. It's my own fault." Harry jumps in.

Louis looks surprised by Harry's instant defense of him as well as what he's just revealed. "Why is that?"

"Was always the first class in the morning. I was still getting the farm up and running." Harry remembers, even getting up at 4am, it wasn't enough time to get all the chores done before catching the bus to school. It was okay though. English was the last of Harry's worries.

At least is used to be.

Louis doesn't say anything else on the matter though and Desmond certainly doesn't try and draw attention to the conversation. Finally, all the papers have been circulated and passed back to the attorney.

The liaison eventually speaks up. "I think that concludes our meeting this afternoon. We have all the documents solidifying Roots' acquisition of Vander Tech under good conscience and the paperwork agreeing to the terms of Metal Core breaking its non-compete with Wolfconn. Thank you for your cooperation Mr. Tomlinson, Mr. Styles Senior, and Mr. Styles Junior."

Harry grimaces at the honorific. He wishes he had a different last name so that he wasn't so easily correlated with his father. He always wondered why his mom never changed his last name when she married Richard.

The click of the recorder signals the end of the session. The three men are still gathering the paperwork together, but Louis is already standing up from his seat.

"Harry, come to my office. We're scheduled for 30 minutes and this meeting's already run five too long." He adjusts his cufflinks.

"Yes sir." Harry stands immediately and doesn't bother acknowledging his father or giving him any parting words before trailing after Louis.

Louis doesn't say anything to Harry on the elevator ride up and Harry's embarrassment has turned mostly into being turned on. He closes his eyes and bites his lip- he knows he wouldn't be able to stare forward without peeking a look at Louis.

The signal of their arrival to the top floor has Louis nearly dragging Harry from the elevator. Harry notes that the secretary station is empty, and other than that, there isn't anybody on the floor.

Louis pulls out his phone, pressing furiously at buttons until Harry hears metal music blast from the door that he assumes leads to Louis' office.

Several steps later and Harry is led through the door. The music is just over the decibel where it's comfortable to listen. Harry nearly stops dead in his tracks though because Louis' office. It's. Amazing. Expansive.

The carpets are white. The walls are white or window. The paintings are minimal and abstract. The desk is a sharp shape and the chairs are crisp. There's so much space.

The further in Harry walks the more exposed he feels. His breath catches and he doesn't notice he's being led to the desk until Louis pushes him face down onto it.

Harry grips into the sides, having been pushed onto the short edge of the desk. To his left is the closed office door. To his right is a window overlooking the city. Behind him is another window that is a picturesque view of Roots.

The sharp pinch of Louis' fingers against his ass is what makes him focus back on Louis. And the fact that his pants are down already. His ass is exposed and facing the window that frames Roots.

Oh God. What if they can see him? What if his coworkers look out the window and can see Harry bent over Louis' desk? Why hasn't Harry ever realized Metal Core was just across the street from Roots?

There's a loud snap that makes Harry jump. He turns his head to see that Louis has whipped his leather belt out from his Calvin Klein suit pants.

"I want you watching the door the entire time. You will be belted 15 times. Do you understand?" Louis says just loudly enough that Harry can hear it through the heavy guitar shredding.

He knows he'll have to speak up louder than normal and puts more volume behind his voice. "Yes sir."

"You like calling me 'sir' do you?" Louis belts him  _hard_  the first time.

"Yes sir!" Harry grips harder into the corners of the desk, feeling them cut into his fingers.

"Like making a fool of yourself in front of your father and our business associates?" Another hard slap of the belt.

"Yes sir!" Harry pants.

"So embarrassing. If that weren't enough, you don't even do your job right." Louis says above the music and lands three more hits of the belt.

_Yes. Yes. Yes._

"Speak up baby, I can't hear you." Louis snaps the belt and it rings above the music.

"Yes! I'm bad. Fuck up everything." Harry replays everything he's done wrong over the last four days.

"Been so bad that I get to punish you for it. I'll make it all better for you baby." Louis lays the belt into him.

Harry's mouth falls open as his breath creates a thick fog against the cool desk top. His ass is on fucking fire, but it's the most welcome sensation he's had in what feels like ages.

"Color." Louis commands.

"Green!" Harry says instantly.

"I didn't lock the door. Think someone will walk in on us? I have my entire company underneath me." The belt hits Harry's thighs this time.

He moans and clenches his eyes shut.  _Fuck_. Hundreds of employees. Hundreds of people underneath them. His  _father_  is probably still in the building.

"Louder baby. They won't be able to hear you over the music." Louis goes back to belting his ass.

"Fuck,  _please_! Yes- fuck!" Harry cries out and his thighs tremble.

"Up here being punished by me. My whole company can hear you and your entire company is watching from across the street. How embarrassing." Louis chides.

Harry feels heat everywhere. Everywhere. It spirals and coils and twists and morphs and then he feels it single in on his throbbing dick that he didn't even realize was hard.

Fuck, he's such an embarrassment. He feels so justified in being punished by Louis in his sharp office with his sharp tongue and sharp belt. The snaps become louder than the pain that Harry feels. Instead, it's pleasure that grows stronger and stronger.

"Fuck! Please- I'm going- I-" Harry stutters through the haze of pain and pleasure.

The door opens and an unrecognizably attractive man walks through the door. "Mr. Tomlin-!"

The heat and pain and pleasure finally ignite and with one last hit of the belt, Harry yells as he comes. His white knuckles grip into the desk and his whole body seizes- his sweaty face gripping into the surface of the desk and his eyes clenching to hide his shame from the random stranger who's just walked in on them.

"Zayn!" Louis throws his belt to the floor. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I'm. So- fucking." Zayn fish mouths.

"Sit the fuck down!" Louis commands. "Harry, compose yourself."

Harry stands straight and it's not until then that his equilibrium very much decides against the action and sends him toppling to the floor. The heavy metal stops and Harry's ears are ringing as he tries getting into his underwear. He finally manages to get his suit pants up and belt refastened- hands shaking uncontrollably the whole time.

"Mr. Tomlin-" Zayn tries.

"Shut up!" Louis yanks some drawers open, shuffling through stacks of papers.

Harry crawls around on all fours since apparently a shoe was lost in the process. Where the fuck is his left shoe? There's a belt on the floor. Harry stares at the belt. He touches his hips. He's wearing his belt. Who's fucking belt is that?

He looks up to see Louis shoving a paper on a clipboard into Zayn's lap. "Sign these right now. If you ever break the terms of this NDA I will make you wish you'd never been born." He threatens.

Louis' belt. It's Louis' belt. Harry is wearing his belt. Louis' is on the floor. His shoe. It's right where his feet were planted when he was bent over the desk. There's- oh  _God_. There's come dripping down the side of Louis' desk. White come dripping down the black desk.

Harry crawls towards his shoe and the desk dripping come and wrestles his foot into the shoe.

_'Compose yourself.'_

Harry can do this. Louis told him to compose himself. He's capable of doing that. How does he do that?

Standing up would probably be a god start.

"I won't- I swear- fucking-" Zayn stumbles as he signs his silence onto the paper.

"Damn fucking right you won't say anything. Do I need to fire you?" Louis' voice fills the vast void of the office.

"God,  _no_. It's cool honestly, I swear-" Zayn hands the clipboard back to him. "My wife is super into that shit."

Harry grips the edge of the desk, yelping when his hand lands in a streak of his own come. He wipes it on his pants and stands again, his body still shaking and ringing and on  _fire_.

"Your wife?" Louis repeats.

"Yeah." Zayn breathes a sigh of relief. "Handcuffs and belts and whatever. It's fine. It's none of my business what you're into anyway."

"This isn't just about that." Louis points to Harry. "This is you also forgetting you ever saw Harry and I engaging in such activities."

"Oh  _fuck_! Harry like- Harry  _Styles_?" Zayn's eyes widen. "God damn. It's good to meet you Harry."

"Uh-huh." Harry says, dazed and leaning his weight against the desk. "Same."

"I need you to go now. Come back in 10 minutes and we'll continue this conversation." Louis dismisses Zayn. "Lock the door on your way out."

Zayn doesn't need to be told twice and exits the room, locking it behind him.

Louis is all over Harry the second the door shuts. "Baby, how are you? What's your color? It's okay, I swear Zayn won't say anything. You're safe baby. I'm so sorry, he was supposed to be in a different department all week. What's your color?"

"Green." Harry leans into Louis' embrace. "Green." He repeats.

"You did so fucking good, I can't believe it. You took 15 so well. You're so strong. Did so fucking good. I'm so proud of you." Louis rubs one hand up and down his back and the other one rubs at his scalp.

"Mmhmm." Harry mumbles into his shoulder.

"Do you feel better? Is your conscience all cleared? Feel good about everything again?" Louis pulls him away to look him in the eyes.

Harry nods. "Much better. Thank you so much."

"How did the belt feel in comparison to other things we've tried?" Louis asks.

Harry has to pause to think through his sentence and make sure he won't use any filler words. "It hurt somewhere between spanking and paddling. I still like paddling better. This was more sting-y." He furrows his eyebrows because he doesn't think that's a word. "It stung more than the paddle. It was good though." He rephrases.

Louis nods like he's mentally answering one of his own questions. "Good. Perfect. You're perfect baby."

"There's come on your desk." Harry motions towards it.

"Good." Louis pecks his cheek then pulls something else out of his drawers. Clorox wipes. "Clean up your mess."

Harry takes the wipes and kneels down to face the desk again. He pulls one out and cleans it up. He deserves this too. Cleaning up his pleasure. Louis treats him so well. Gives him everything he deserves- including tasks. Harry would be so lost without Louis.

"Thank you." Harry says, referring to everything that's happened post-meeting.

"Thank  _you_  baby." Louis sits in his office chair. "You liked calling me sir?" This time he asks it as a serious question.

Harry shrugs, tossing a handful of soiled wipes into the trash bin. "I liked it today. Me being here at your company and in front of other people. Did you?"

Louis looks contemplative. "It was certainly different. I liked it today too though."

"Sorry I can't call you the other thing." Harry stands back up.

"We're working around it. It's quite alright." Louis looks like he's biting back a lot more than what he's leading on.

"I could call you sir all the time if you wanted?" Harry offers.

Louis shakes his head. "Let's not make a rule about it. Let's just... go with the flow, if you will." He twirls his wrist in the air.

Harry nods, still feeling very small in the giant room.

Louis pats his lap. "Come here. I want to talk to you about something."

Harry walks over to sit on Louis' lap. He's a little embarrassed since he's a bit bigger than Louis, but it works. His bum stings, but the silk material soothes it.

"I run an Instagram page." Louis starts.

Harry nods. "I follow you. Sarah wouldn't let me favorite any of your pictures though."

Louis shakes his head. "Not my Metal Core one. It's one that I use with subs. I haven't used it in a while since I haven't had a sub in a while."

"I'm not your sub yet." Harry says instantly.

"I know." A small smile makes its way onto Louis' face. "I post pictures of BDSM scenes on the page."

Oh.

"I never show faces. Nobody knows who I am or who any of my subs have been." Louis says.

He isn't asking any questions though. Harry waits for a question to come.

"I would make sure both of our privacy is protected. I want to start posting pictures of some of the scenes we have together." Louis says.

There still aren't any questions. It forces Harry to ask them. "Do I have the option to accept or decline?"

"Do you want an option?" Louis asks diplomatically.

And that really makes Harry think. He has the freedom of not being under contract with Louis. If he said no, things would stay just between them- and well, Zayn. If he said yes, that would mean being on Instagram. That would mean being on the same page as who-knows-how-many other ex-subs of Louis'.

It would also mean being the most recent one. Being the most recent and only person to have claim on Louis. Everyone else would just be irrelevant past photos. His followers would know there is someone new who is with Louis.

Along with that, it would mean exposure to the entire internet while still staying anonymous.

Harry's gut churns as butterflies scramble frantically. He shakes his head excitedly.

"Perfect. Then you don't have an option." Louis unpockets his phone. "First picture is right now. Pants down, shirt up. Bend over my desk."

Jeez, they're- they're doing this  _now_. Harry grins from ear to ear as he lays his cheek against the black varnish again.

He feels Louis lay his belt down along his spine so that it drapes over his butt-crack, but keeps all the bright red welts visible. Harry shivers as the sound of the shutter goes off.

"Beautiful. I'm going to get some lotion on you now too, okay?" The sound of drawers opening ensues.

Louis softly rubs the cream into Harry's skin and the cooling sensation keeps it from stinging. It leaves behind only the dull thrum of phantom pressure and Harry loves it.

"Feels so good." Harry smiles as he pulls his pants back up.

"Perfect. Come look at the picture. Your ass is absolutely beautiful." Louis pulls Harry into his lap again.

Harry snuggles against his chest the best he can. He watches lazily as Louis tweaks a few enhancements on the picture, then caption and add hashtags to it.

Harry feels extremely self-satisfied. Everything in the world is good again.

"I'll send you pictures as comments come in." Louis locks his phone and sets it off to the side.

"Thank you for everything." Harry smiles. "I should go back though."

"Alright baby. Have a good rest of the day." Louis leans in to give him a meaningful kiss.

Harry loves it.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. The only thing Harry knows is that he had a grin plastered to his face for the rest of it.

~~~

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

~~~ 

L

Louis picks up his office phone to dial Zayn's extension.

Zayn answers after the first ring. "Zayn Malik, Meta-"

"Get in my office. Bring fireballs, a lighter, and a metal bowl." Louis hangs up the phone.

So maybe Sasha would have his ass for how much alcohol he's been drinking. It's fine really. He still does his daily work outs. Most the time. Just add it to the long list of things he's bad at.

He growls to himself and wishes he could go back to blasting Asking Alice to drown out his thoughts. 

He pulls out the 60 cent spiral bound notebook from his bottom drawer. He opens it a page, ignoring the perforated shreds of previous pages he's ripped from it. He clicks his pen and starts scribbling across the page.

I'm a bad dom because I can't even take care of my own body

I'm a bad dom because I didn't stop spanking Harry when I could tell he was yellow

I'm a bad dom because I left Harry too early and ignored him to go to a Broadway show and made him feel unwanted and unimportant

I'm a bad dom because I don't know how to have vanilla sex anymore

I'm a bad dom because I punished Harry's ignorance before knowing he never went to English classes

I'm a bad dom because I left my office door open and was careless towards Harry's only request to not be publicly gay

I'm a bad dom because I posted Harry's ass on Instagram before he's even signed the contract

The door opens and Zayn comes through with the requested items and sets them on the desk. Louis takes the shot, then folds his paper in half and lights it on fire, letting it burn out in the metal bowl.

Seems as if it's a conscience clearing day for both himself and Harry.

He can breathe easier as he watches his mistakes burn away. Like they're gone and he can move on from them. 

Once the paper is nothing but black ashes with a small ember on a couple of the charred pieces, Louis feels a rush of clarity. He takes a deep breath and looks at Zayn who hasn't moved.

"Drink before I steal it." Louis motions towards the other filled shot glass.

"I thought they were both for you." Zayn shoots back the Cinnamon Schnapps mixed with Bacardi and Tabasco.

"No. From now on I'm cutting my alcohol intake in half." Louis says mindlessly. 

"I think you're fine man. We hardly have more than four shots during lunch." Zayn shrugs.

"It's about controlling it before it becomes a problem and I become irreversibly unhealthy." Louis clips, shoving away the memories of when one beer became 20 and the scale went from 150 to 200.

"Right. Noted then." Zayn nods.

Louis sizes up Zayn. Zayn looks much too comfortable for having just walked in on someone being belted in his office. "You weren't kidding about your wife?"

Zayn shakes his head instantly. "She doms me all the time. Takes me to clubs sometimes."

Louis' eyebrows hit his hairline. "You're a sub?" 

Louis. Did not. 

See that coming.

"Most the time." Zayn says easily. "We'll swap sometimes."

Okay. That makes Louis' sixth sub senses feel better. God, since when did he get such a sensitive ego? 

"Right." Louis relaxes into his chair a little more. "You said you go to clubs? Don't think I've ever seen you around."

"Oh, we always go several cities over to meet up with our friends and do scenes with them." Zayn explains.

"So you're open to others in your scenes?" Louis brings a hand to his face and traces his lips with his index finger. 

Zayn nods more slowly this time but doesn't say anything. 

Louis needs to derail his train of thought right here though. He and Harry aren't even close to that point. Not yet at least. And judging by how Harry reacted towards Billie Joe kissing him, he assumes that conversation will be put off even longer.

"I'd like to extend a promotion to you as my personal assistant. Do you accept or decline?" Louis decides.

It's Zayn's turn for his eyebrows to hit his hairline. "Accept." Then a beat. "Why?"

"I've heard nothing but rave reviews from the President of International Affairs. I'm in dire need of a personal assistant, but haven't had one since the last two leaked sensitive information about me." Louis grimaces thinking back to when he sent her to his house and she took photos of his scene room and sold them to the paparazzi. Luckily Louis' phenomenal team was able to divert the photos and pay off people's silence. The second P.A. was almost the same story verbatim.

"They're both in jail now." He adds as an afterthought.

Zayn looks appropriately surprised, but also undaunted. "I'm happy to accept then."

"Excellent." Louis breathes a sigh of relief. He might actually get out of the office before nine from now on. He pulls out a stack of papers from a desk drawer and slides them towards Zayn. "Your first task: fill out all your own paperwork. After that, go down to distribution and pick up an extra phone and get it synced to mine. Once that's done, I want you hiring a secretary to take your place."

"I'll have it all done by the end of the day." Zayn says confidently.

"Good. I'll call payroll and give you a raise." Louis picks up his phone. "Do I need to reiterate that my last two P.A.'s are in jail?"

"No sir." Zayn says surely.

Louis' cock flinches at that and he crinkles his nose trying not to think about how he didn't have time to fuck Harry over his desk. "Now get out of my face."

Zayn exits without another word.

~~~ 

H 

Harry feels... tranquil. 

He feels like those nights he used to go skinny dipping in the still lake on the outside of town when the rippled water reflected the soft moonlight. Then afterwards when they would go to Mona's house and drink hot chocolate around her fireplace.

He feels like those long and lazy trail rides on Grady's horses deep into the forest over never ending rolling hills. Then stopping to stretch and water the horses while the birds sang softly to them.

He feels like Louis is more than what he ever could have imagined. That every breathing moment around Louis makes him a better person. That every time he's with Louis, he walks away more confident and self-assured.

Harry falls asleep with a smile on his face.

~~~ 

L

Louis feels exhausted. 

He didn't end up getting out of the office before nine, but in all honesty, he didn't expect to. It was more a fleeting fantasy. Even  _if_  Zayn performs perfectly, the work load that Louis single handedly takes care of will take  _months_  for Zayn to be on top of. Louis will still have to do 90% of his own personal assisting until he trusts that Zayn can do it.

On top of that, he has a business trip coming up. Tomorrow. To Brazil. That he forgot about until he was sitting in bed in his scarlet robe with his white duvet bunched up around him like a nest.

"Fuck." He mumbles as he double clicks the email that's just come in, suggesting that he do an early check in.

He knew, objectively, that this was coming up. He does a detailed personal calendar overview every Sunday night and a refresher every night before he goes to sleep.

This week has just kind of gotten away with him, what with now dealing with splitting his manufacturer between Metal Core and Roots. He'll have to outsource some of his own company's less demanding products to another plant in China and some further into Finland. 

He rubs his eyebrows as he reads his itinerary three times. His phone rings, pulling him from his stupor. It's Zayn.

"Tomlinson." He answers less robust than a piece of gum.

"Hey it's-"

"Stop fucking announcing it's you. I have god damned caller ID." Louis' spirit burns a little fiercer when he has the opportunity to make others feel stupid.

"You always announce it's you even when you're answering your personal cell." Zayn points out.

Like a blazing match that's had a gallon of water dumped on it, Louis sighs. "What do you want?"

"You're going to Brazil tomorrow?" Zayn asks.

The corner of Louis' mouth almost crooks up into a half smile. It doesn't quite make it. But almost. "Going through my personal emails now?"

"I safely assumed I had more than I imagined to catch up on. I'm glad I have your emails on alert." He can hear Zayn give himself a pat on the back. "Anyway, I know it's late, but I just wanted to make sure you have everything ready for tomorrow? Do you need me to pack for you or arrange for clothing to be bought there? Translators, transportation, accommodations?"

God bless the day Louis promoted Zayn Malik to his personal assistant. 

That was today. God bless today.

"The travel agent has taken care of most of it, but if I could have you come here first thing tomorrow morning and pack for me, that would be absolutely stellar." Louis shuts his laptop because, really, it's 1am and he needs to go to sleep. "And I need a taxi here by 7."

"Alright, I'll take care of it." Zayn says surely.

Louis stares at the ceiling for a minute, trying- and failing- to think ahead to his two-week business trip that starts tomorrow. "Is your passport current?"

"Of course." Zayn says immediately.

"What about your wife's?" Louis asks since he's feeling generous. And also rich. He always feels rich. Sometimes he likes to share that feeling with others.

"She's on the Cirque de Soleil global tour group. So yes." Zayn replies.

Ah. Cirque de Soleil. It's been years since Louis has been to one of their shows. He had heard that they were opening up a theatre for it in Manhattan. 

"Well how do you guys feel about going to Brazil for two weeks?" Louis asks. "Or however long. I don't care. The company will cover everything."

"I'll bring my suitcase tomorrow too then. My wife can come over the weekend." Zayn says.

"Great. Call the airline and arrange everything." Louis says, feeling a great load of stress go.

"Alright. See you in a few hours then." Zayn sounds amused.

"Yep. I'll be in the office for an hour, but I'll meet you here." Louis says, eyes threatening to close.

"Night." Zayn says.

Louis hangs up. 

It's just him and silence. 

He sets his computer on his nightstand and uses an app on his phone to turn off the lights. When he does, it's nothing but him and the quiet. This high up, it's a long way down to the streets of New York; add his excellently insulated walls and there is nothing but the solitary sound of Louis' heartbeat. 

He keeps his eyes open to stare at the ceiling because he knows that the moment he closes them there will be the dangerous moments between awake and asleep where his brain's guard gets let down. When business starts to fade away and an astute self-awareness creeps in. A self-awareness so present that he feels uncomfortable and too loud in his own skin. 

Except staring at the ceiling is when the demonic shadows morph from Louis' past and project onto his walls. The shadows of the nights he was alone in his house. The shadows that look like his dad getting home from the graveyard shift as a police man. The shadows that grew bigger when his dad got shot and became 'unfit' and 'unable to pass the physical' without even an offer of help for physical therapy from the police department. The dark shadows that loomed when his dad was never able to recover and started living off of disability and pain pills.

By the time they arrived at ends meet was when his mom started taking the pills too and subsequentially lost her job. With a child and two drug addicts, his dad quickly turned to stealing and robbing and threatening until he finally got caught and thrown into prison for first degree burglary when he broke and entered into a hospital with a gun to steal pain meds.

The shadows only became scarier after that when it was no one but himself and his mom. When she advanced her drug use to stronger opiates. When the soft creak of the house settling were the times that he prayed was his mom finally coming home rather than staying out or staying up to do drugs while he was in bed.

Staring at the walls in silence shows the shadows slinking in.

So Louis shuts his eyes as tightly as he can.

But when the shadows are gone, it's only himself. Himself and his brain.

And there it is. Those moments where his brain can't keep up the walls of being busy to distract him. 

His brain screams to him about all the places in his life that are lacking; all the times he's made stupid mistakes- but mostly, all the time he spent wasting his lazy life away. If he had jumped into the business scene sooner, he surely would be 26 and not 28. He surely would have more money in the bank and more success. He-

Louis' eyes fly open before he can go any further. He scrambles out of his bed and mashes the buttons on his phone until Slayer is screaming about reigning in blood and his ears hurt.

He closes his eyes. Brain unable to concentrate on anything for more than three seconds, the frenetic exhaustion and loud metal music lulls him to sleep.

~~~

/Sneak peak for next update/

"So... what's going on?" Harry shifts uncomfortably.

"You have a photoshoot today." Liam says exasperatedly. "I swear Niall said he was gonna tell you... Just..."

"I'm confused. Why do I have a photoshoot?" Harry backtracks.

"Because Desmond wants photos of you out there that aren't you crying behind Mr. Tomlinson grinding on a mic stand." Liam reads off his computer then turns bright red. "Shit! That was the part I wasn't supposed to tell you- I meant- Mr. Styles wants to start doing press releases and-"

~~~

 


	21. Chapter 21

~~~

H

Harry happily scrubs his fluffy powder blue loofah all over his body and sings along to Ring of Fire like every other morning as the sun is just starting to kiss the horizon.

It's also Thursday. Which means it's almost Friday. Which means the weekend might maybe mean he can see Louis again. Possibly.

Louis really is an inspiration to Harry. Harry has always considered himself to be a hard worker. Mona's parents always told him as such and his parents certainly always told him he worked _too_ hard.

But in New York now, Harry can see that his idea of hard work is nothing compared to the standard that Louis holds himself to. Louis is always challenging himself. Always pushing to be- not just better- but the _best_. Always working because of how motivated he is to reach his goals personally, financially, and business-wise.

Harry very much looks up to Louis.

He wonders how in the world Louis thinks he's good enough for him. But. He'll certainly take it. And he certainly won't complain about it or bring it up... He'd rather- what's the phrase again? Commit seppuku. That's the one.

The song changes to It Ain't Me Babe and Harry smiles because he's getting a handle on these fancy cultural terms.

He also maybe sings 'it isn't me babe.' It's a little harder to sing, but it makes Harry smile even wider because he can be good enough at English for Louis. Because Louis makes him better.

When he makes it into work, he arrives early like every other morning and takes the stairs. He jogs the first 10 flights, does high knees the next 10, then does butt kicks for 10, and finishes off with jogging the remaining.

He opens the door to the 34th floor, smiling because Louis' office is also on the 34th floor. He could look straight out the window and see Louis' office. The one with Louis' desk that he got bent over and belted on.

"Morning Harry!" Liam chimes in from his desk.

"Morning Liam." Harry smiles and walks over to the window.

He stares for a few moments- the once foreign sight coming clear into his view. He can see the white walls and the black desk. He can also make out one of the larger abstract paintings. He doesn't see anyone in the office though. Even if he did, he's not sure he'd be able to make out that it was Louis.

"I have your iced tea for you. They've had Farquhar from the food court start making it fresh for you." Liam pulls out a pitcher of tea from the fridge and sets it on his desk.

"That's very nice of him." Harry can't help but smile a little. "I'll have it after I rinse off and change."

"Oh- you... Don't you want to wait until after the photoshoot to rinse off?" Liam asks.

"What?" Harry squints.

"Your... photoshoot..." Liam hurriedly clicks around on his computer as if he's double checking himself. "Niall should have given you a call. Mr. Styles wants to start doing press releases and interviews. It's all just been low key media gossip about what you're actually doing here."

"Um- shit." Harry pinches his wrist. "I mean, why? And Niall never told me."

Liam scratches his head. "Well he should have-"

The elevator dings and Niall comes walking blindly out of the elevator- phone in his ear, one in his right hand, tablet in the other, and two briefcases slung around his shoulder.

"Niall-" Liam interrupts himself, "why didn't you tell Harry about the photoshoot today?"

"One second Matt." Niall presses a button- presumably to mute the phone. He keeps walking right passed Liam and speaking like Liam isn't important enough for him to waste his time with. "Because that's your job Liam. I gave you detailed, step by step instructions on preparing him for it and how to rearrange his day."

Liam gapes after him as he goes down the hall. "But-"

"Sorry about that Matt. Continue." Niall ignores Liam.

"So... what's going on?" Harry shifts uncomfortably.

"You have a photoshoot today." Liam says exasperatedly. "I swear Niall said he was gonna tell you... Just..."

"I'm confused. Why do I got- _have_ \- a photoshoot?" Harry backtracks and pinches his wrist again.

"Because Desmond wants photos of you out there that aren't you crying behind Mr. Tomlinson grinding on a mic stand." Liam reads off his computer then turns bright red. "Shit! That was the part I wasn't supposed to tell you- I meant- Mr. Styles wants to start doing press releases and-"

"Liam, it's fine." Harry can't help but smile manically at the thought that he has those photos saved on his phone and that they're still all over the internet. "When is the photoshoot?"

He thinks Lenny would be proud. He's been teaching Harry how to be more direct and that part of being a good leader is keeping others on track too. Harry thinks Liam needs a good leader since he seems to get off track easily.

"It's in an hour." Liam leans closer into his computer to read from it. "They're filming part of it and there's going to be a crew in Central Park. They want to showcase you doing the things you typically do during a work day. So keep your running gear on and make sure your bandana isn't showing any logos, and is not red or blue."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "Why can't it be red or blue?"

"I dunno." Liam shrugs. "They also want you driving your truck there. They are doing a candid section as well."

"What does that mean?" Harry asks as an autopilot response to new information.

"Like, so they want to act like they're just catching you doing something you normally do." Liam says.

"Which is...?" Harry asks.

"Um..." Liam blushes again. "Not sure. But they want you to bring a white t-shirt and your jeans for that part."

"Well I have to go back home to get them then." Harry says, trying not to let his distress show because he _hates_ being unprepared.

"Yeah. You should probably just go to the park from there." Liam says, checking his watch.

"Will I need anything else?" Harry twists a curl around his finger.

"Just a suit for when you come back here. They want to do some in-office filming." Liam says.

Harry's heart beats a little faster. Suit. What kind of suit? Which one should he choose? What one is appropriate? There must be different protocol for these types of events.

"Okay- I should go then." Harry says, already backing up. "Shit... okay- I'll see you later." He turns quickly to mash the elevator buttons. Unfortunately, the elevator is faster at descending 34 levels than Harry is.

He nearly sprints out of the elevator and through the parking garage. He mentally goes through what he'll need to grab when he stops by his house. Except- his suit. Fuck. What fucking suit does he wear?

He holds the home button of his phone until the voice activation keys for him to speak. "Call Louis."

"Calling Louis." His phone repeats to him.

Louis picks up before the first ring has even finished. "Harry baby, I'm so sorry I forgot to tell you because I completely spaced it- I'm going to Brazil- I'll only be gone for two weeks."

Harry nearly slams on his brakes and swerves into his parking garage of his apartment complex. "What?"

"I'm so sorry I didn't have time to give you warning. Lots of business to attend to there." Louis mumbles something to someone. "Sorry, I thought that's why you were calling. What's up then? Are you alright? Is everything okay?"

_No, now that you're going to be gone._

Harry thrusts his truck into park and rests his forehead on the steering wheel. "I have a photoshoot today and I don't know what suit to wear..."

"Oh baby that's- hold the god damned plane! I'll be 30 more seconds for fucks sake!" Louis yells. "Remember the really fancy jacket you wore to my house that evening? The one that I unstitched the pockets on?"

Harry nods, feeling the skin on his forehead stretch against the rubber steering wheel. "Yeah."

"Wear that one and the matching suit pants. Go for your Chelseas and a matching belt. Then pick your favorite shirt. I think the monochrome one would look lovely for the shoot. And fuck the tie. You're Harry Styles and you do what you want." Louis instructs.

Harry mentally runs through where all the items are and ignores the ever building anxiety in his stomach. "Okay. Thank you so much. I'll let you go then-"

"Baby, one more thing." Louis says, voice going softer.

"Yeah?" Harry tugs at a curl.

"They're going to put makeup on you." He says gently. "It's standard for photoshoots. It's so that you won't look washed out on camera. They do it to me- they do it to Desmond. Anyone who has ever been on film has been touched up with makeup. It's just to bring out your best features."

Harry could cry. He wants to cry. Hell, he might be crying in two seconds because _Louis_. Louis knew and remembered that Harry is uncomfortable with things like that. If Harry had just shown up and they started coming at him with brushes and sponges he- he probably would have had a breakdown.

"Th-thank you." Harry manages to get out.

"No problem. I know you can do it. I really have to go now though baby." Louis says.

"Okay. Travel safely and... text me when you land?" Harry says hopefully.

"I'll email you. Download the Skype app in the mean time since we can't text normally without exorbitant fees." Louis instructs.

"Okay." Harry says, committing Louis' words to memory. "Have a good day then."

"You too. Bye." Louis hangs up.

Harry bites his lip to keep from over thinking. He decides to just push it to the back of his brain. He pushes it into the pile of all the 'Reasons Harry doesn't deserve Louis' that's placed right next to the 'How the hell am I supposed to go two weeks without Louis' pile.

When he bursts through the door, he's already memorized exactly what he's going to grab and where it's placed. He's back in his truck three minutes later- glad that he's already wearing his favorite work-out outfit from doing stairs this morning.

He pulls into the parking garage that Liam had specified via text and wraps a cloud patterned bandana around his hair to keep it out of his face. He grabs his bag that holds his boots, white tee, and wranglers, and makes his way out of the concrete jungle and up into the fresh air.

It doesn't take him long to find where he's supposed to be if the enormous camera crew is anything to go by. He hates to be presumptuous though, so in his spandex shorts and top, he jogs over to a camera man.

"Excuse me. Do you know where they're filming the photoshoot for Harry Styles?" He asks as innocuously as possible.

The man looks him up and down suspiciously. "Aren't _you_ Harry Styles?"

"Well yes..." Harry bites at the inside of his cheek.

"Then this is right where we need you. Go talk to Drew the director." The photographer points him to a man with an ascot around his neck.

Harry walks over to Drew. "Excuse me... I'm Harry Styles- I was told I-"

"About time!" Drew exclaims with a lisp. "Lord _Jesus_ you look so much tastier in person!" He gives him a generous once-over.

Harry feels himself grow hot under Drew's gaze. Drew is the epitome of the kind of guy Grady would beat the shit out of. Drew is the epitome of the kind of guy Harry would admire from afar for his freedom.

Drew is also the kind of guy that makes Harry significantly self-aware.

"Sorry." Harry mumbles before he can help himself. "Where- um, what am I supposed to do? I'm new to all this."

"Well." Drew claps his hands together. "Give Katy your keys and she'll bring your truck to our final destination for the candid shoot. After that I want you to go to Marquis and she'll take care of your make up. We'll do a brief interview on why you run and then film you along the paths. Then once we get to the next set, we'll change scenes."

Harry nods and turns towards the girl named Marquis that Drew motioned towards. He doesn't hesitate to put distance between himself and Drew.

"Mr. Styles! What a pleasure to be working with you!" Marquis holds out a soft hand that Harry shakes.

"Likewise." He says simply.

"Now go ahead and have a seat on the stool. I'm just going to do a little make up for you. We want to keep it natural after all! You're supposed to be working out- not strutting the catwalk for fashion week." She gives a bubbly chuckle.

Harry doesn't really know what that means and he really doesn't care to ask this time. He just sits down, closes his eyes, and waits.

The first time he feels a sponge touch his skin with cold liquid- he flinches. His breathing automatically increases because _fuck_ , they're putting makeup on him.

_'Look at those faggots wearing makeup.'_

_'God what pussies. Don't they know they already look enough like girls?'_

_'Watch out. Here comes the wannabe vagina squad.'_

Grady's taunts float around in his head as Marquis lathers him with liquids and powders.

_'Fuck, change the channel Harry. Nobody wants to watch a bunch of worthless faggots prancing around a stage.'_

Harry panics at the memories. Panics at being seen as anything less than a man. Panics at thinking of being manly enough for Grady.

"You alright dear?" Marquis asks. "We mustn't have you passing out before we start shooting."

Harry swallows. "Fine."

He has to calm down. It's okay. Things are okay. Louis warned him this would happen.

_'It's standard for photoshoots.'_

Louis' voice rings in his ears. It's okay. It's standard. Harry is doing a standard thing. Louis said so himself.

_'It's so that you won't look washed out on camera.'_

That's all it is. Harry isn't trying to look like a girl or a faggot. He's just going to look normal colored. They're not about to cake him in lipstick and mascara. Just enough to make him not look too pale.

_'They do it to me- they do it to Desmond. Anyone who has ever been on film has been touched up with makeup. It's just to bring out your best features.'_

Harry lets out his last breath of stress. Louis does this all the time. His father does it. It's just to make him look as good as he possibly can- as _masculine_ as he possibly can.

_'I know you can do it.'_

Harry smiles. Because everything that Louis says, Harry knows he can be. Louis has the utmost faith in him. Louis is the most brilliant person ever.

Louis knows he can do it.

"All done dear." Marquis pats him on his makeuped cheek.

"Thank you." He says to be polite.

"Let's get you to Igor now then, shall we?" She leads him over to a small and sturdy Russian.

"My name is Igor. I will be interviewing you." The man says with a thick accent.

"Great." Harry shakes his hand.

"Sit there please." Igor motions to a bench.

Harry follows the instruction and clasps his hands in his lap like he's seen Louis do. He sits up a little straighter too, as if it were Louis interviewing him and not Igor.

The camera rolls and Harry does pretty well he thinks. He just hopes it's not too obvious that he takes his time between answers to think about what he's going to say prior to saying it out loud. He talks about how physically active he's used to being because of living on a farm. He details the struggle in living in the city without fresh air. He waxes poetic about the beauty and outdoorsy feel of Central Park and how it helps him feel closer to home.

Well. That part may have been scripted and prompted by Igor, but Harry related to it, so it didn't feel too fake.

They have him repeat some things twice, but overall, Igor says that Harry 'does good.' Harry hopes that he would do Louis proud.

After that, they point in the direction that they want Harry to run, and Harry takes off.

"Woah, woah, woah! We're _filming_ here boy! Not trying to outrun the navy!" Drew exclaims.

Harry stops- a small puff of dust coming up as he does so. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Yes." Drew gets out from behind the camera and walks up to Harry and massages his shoulders. "You're not training for a triathlon. Loosen up some, mmkay?"

Drew massaging his shoulders _really_ doesn't help him loosen up, but he takes away from the whole conversation that he needs to slow down. So he does.

"Harry honey! Stop looking like you're running from a pack of wolves! This is _Central Park_." Drew says with a dreamy air. "Everybody wants to be here- with you- on a leisurely jog."

Harry doesn't really see the point at all in doing a leisurely job when he explicitly just described to the camera that he does his afternoon jogs as a midday work out.

He scratches at his hair line though- a few curls falling out of the bandana- and tries to jog even slower.

"Perfect darling, _perfect_! Just unscrunch those eyebrows so you don't look constipated, mmkay?" Drew calls out behind the video camera that's sticking out the side of a golf cart.

There are cameras in front of him, cameras in back, and cameras on the side. Some taking still frames, some taking video. Harry has no clue why his afternoon jogs are this important, but doesn't question it.

He's gotten a hang of his slow, camera-worthy jog by now and it's not too much longer until he reaches a bend. Even from the small amount of exertion, he still gets a mini endorphin release and it makes it easier for him to loosen up.

The fresh oxygen fills his lungs as a soft smile pops onto his face. There are people walking their dogs, old couples holding hands, moms and dads pushing their babies in strollers- and a bunch of girls giggling?

Harry looks around self-consciously. The crew still looks the same. No one is stalking his entourage.

The giggling becomes louder and louder. And then. He rounds the bend- a stretch of park now visible. Harry trips a little as he slows down too quickly.

There, parked in the center of an open grassy field, is his red pickup truck with dozens of girls in white tank tops and Daisy Dukes climbing all over and washing it.

Harry thinks he might be sick.

~~~

 


	22. Chapter 22

~~~

L

Louis easily restrains himself from drinking the entire flight. His newfound self-disciple starts right now.

Well, technically it started yesterday. But every time refusing a drink or moderating intake feels like the first time doing it.

Zayn sits next to him though, asleep after the first three hours of the flight. Louis wishes he could sleep on flights. He's never been able to though.

No matter. The flight is almost halfway there.

Only seven hours left.

After finishing another business book in the three hours he's been sitting, he finally accepts the fact that he's going to end up pulling out his computer and working.

He pulls up the web browser, but he's promptly informed by a bright yellow box that he will have to purchase Wi-Fi.

Which. Odd. Wi-Fi has always been an amenity in every first class seat he's flown.

He gives a snarky look to his computer and the general absurdity of the situation. To add insult to injury, when he goes to purchase Wi-Fi, it comes up with an error code. He rolls his eyes, making sure not to over react because he probably just did it wrong. So he tries again.

Four very calm tries later, he definitely did not do it wrong.

He presses the attendant call button.

Being in first class means he never has to wait long for a flight attendant to make their way over to him. Turns out she's a young and attractive red head with a vintage up do- complete with a vintage hat and one of those neck scarves that used to be worn in the forties. Louis wonders when retro became the airline standard.

"How can I help you sir?" The lady with a nametag reading Felicia asks.

"Would you mind telling me why I keep getting an error message when trying to purchase Wi-Fi?" Louis pastes on a fake smile so he doesn't sound like too much of an asshole. Felicia isn't his employee. Felicia could get him kicked off the plane and arrested if she wanted to. "I've tried four times already." He tacks on for good measure, but unfortunately comes off sounding a tad on the side of pitiful.

Felicia gives a proper look of surprise and dissatisfaction. "Oh, I'm sorry. The bandwidth has been restricted for confidential reasons."

Louis blinks because does she fucking know who he is? "And how much do your confidential reasons want to un-restrict them?" He pulls out his wallet.

"Sorry sir, it's not my call." Felicia says politely like she's not scared of Louis. And really, Louis wants to grab her neck scarf and twist it until he's got her face smooshed into the ground and tears in her eyes.

"I'm afraid I'm not satisfied with that answer." Louis says carefully. "Mind giving me another option?"

Felicia puts on a bitch face now. "Like I said sir, it's not my call. I am not running the plane, nor am I running the airline or the restrictions they set in place."

Louis. Louis takes a breath before responding. "Sorry, let me rephrase. I'm Louis Tomlinson, CEO of Metal Core. I need Wi-Fi so that I can work, lest I get seven hours behind on my day and the global economy crashes into a worldwide electronic financial crisis because I can't access my emails."

Felicia purses her hot pink lips ever so slightly. "I know who you are sir, and you are not exempt from the restrictions."

"Are there other people on the flight who have already purchased it then?" Louis pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why am I wasting my time? I can just pay one of them off and-"

"The Wi-Fi has been temporarily restricted from all passengers." She cuts in.

"Can I talk to the pilot then?" Louis asks, exasperated.

"It's not his call." She says.

"Who the fuck makes the call then?" Louis flips his tray table up, ready to raise hell.

"The airline- which is currently unavailable to contact at the moment as our phones are off. And if you think about causing a scene, I would be happy to introduce you to the air marshal." She says easily.

God, Felicia must deal with some truculent assholes if she's not even fazed by Louis' first round of threats.

"What do you suggest I do for the next seven hours then?" Louis' voice is much too light to be considered sane.

"We have in flight masseuses, a bar, or there's always the option to sleep." She looks pointedly at Zayn.

And Louis has actually had it with her.

"Felicia, I could buy your entire god damned airline; and after giving everyone at my company- including myself- a raise and shipping off three million phones to homeless African children, along with purchasing my competitors company with a check from a bank account I don't even have open yet and _still_ not even notice a dent in my company's revenue." Louis seethes. "I strongly urge you to let me have a word with your airline coordinator."

"I strongly urge you to buy your own private jet since this seems to be such an issue for you." She says simply. "And if you try threatening me again, I can have you thrown into federal prison."

Great. He could reunite with his dad.

"Not necessary." Louis gives up and stares at the seat in front of him.

"Have a good day Mr. Tomlinson." She gives a curt nod of the head.

Money can't buy everything.

Louis sighs and bangs his head against a couple times against his headrest.

~~~

H

Harry's white tee shirt was long ago soaked through and peeled off by some blonde with bright red lipstick.

There's a brunette on his back who is wearing fake cowgirl boots and pretending to swing her hand in the air like she's holding a lasso.

A black-haired girl is on top of the cab of his truck, peeling off her clothes.

The country music gets turned up louder and the suds and sponges get smooshed against Harry left and right.

Harry will find whoever set this up. And he will have Louis kill them.

"Smile darling! Smile wider!" Drew cheers on.

The brunette leans forward and places a purple kiss against his cheek.

There's a crowd gathering now. Some people with phones out and others just watching on in curiosity. Along with his own camera crew, a slew of paparazzi has showed up and there are lights flashing everywhere and _why_ because it's actually the middle of the day and the sun is out.

Harry tries making his grin wider- eliciting a squeal from another blonde who's curls have long since washed out. All the girls' tank tops are transparent by this point and he's surprised they're still wearing them at all.

It's not like he's never seen nearly naked women before. He's seen Mona in a swimsuit or her sports bra plenty of times. But. It was never like this.

The dozen girls are throwing themselves at his feet and pulling their shirts down much lower than necessary. Their dancing is much too provocative for what daylight should ever permit and the way they pretend to sing to him like he's their Romeo is sickening.

Harry mostly just wants to put some decent and dry clothes on all the women and sit them down and ask them their names and their aspirations for life.

Luck is not on his side though and his direction is being called out by Drew. 'Candid' his ass.

"Harry, I want to see more _life_! More _pizazz_! Go back to washing the car. Lose the girl from your back." Drew calls out.

"Sorry Miss." Harry gently lets the girl down off his back and she just giggles.

Harry wishes they would like, _talk_ to him. But it seems that's just out of the cards.

"Let me see those abs, muscle man!" Drew cat calls.

Harry doesn't even know what that's supposed to mean. So instead of paying it any mind, he picks up a sponge and presses it against the rusting red- trying not to think about how they are completely blaspheming Florida Georgia Line in the name of sex appeal.

There are some hands on his ass that make him turn his head over his shoulder. He looks down, since all the girls are significantly shorter than him, and quirks an eyebrow.

"Did you need me to move?" He tries turning his body and side stepping her.

She just buckles over in an over-exaggerated laughter and then pins him against his truck.

"Um, excuse me-" He tries, and fails, and then her lips are mashing against his.

There's an eruption of noise from all around him and _shit, fuck, shit, fuck, fuck_. Harry's never kissed a girl and Harry doesn't only hate it, but he hates himself and he hates that it's absolutely 100 percent undeniably confirmed that he is definitely gay. Harry is also very much Louis' and feels like drowning himself in the nearest pond because he can't deal with what the repercussions of what all of this might mean for them. Harry doesn't even know how's he's supposed to live with himself after this. _Shit, fuck, shit, fuck, fuck_.

In reality, it hardly is a two second kiss before Harry firmly grips her waist and pulls her off of him.

" _Please_. Do _not_ do that again Miss." Harry requests firmly.

She giggles and runs away.

Harry is overwhelmed. He's too fucking overwhelmed for this and he can't deal with this and this is definitely not what he signed up for. Fuck- _New York_ isn't what he fucking signed up for. He fucking hates it here.

He squeezes his hands into his sponge to relieve some tension and cover his hands with soap. When they're sufficiently coated, he rubs his eyes vigorously so that when his eyes tear up, he has an excuse. He also very much deserves the pain.

"No, Harry your eyes are too pink now! Oh!" Drew points to a different girl with black hair. "You, sit in the backseat of the car with him. And actually- Little Mermaid- go in the backseat with Snow White and Prince Charming."

Harry feels a sick sense of nostalgia when he was in elementary school and it was picture day. Richard and Anne consistently forgot- every year- to sign his disclosure to get pictures taken. So Harry ended up in line, with an unsigned disclosure, and a photographer herding 50 elementary school kids and calling them by Disney names.

He always thought it was the horrible embarrassment that was the worst part. The embarrassment of having to be sent to the side of the room while all of his classmates got their pictures taken.

But no. The dreaded feeling in his stomach is the memory of the damned Disney names.

As it were, Harry is being egged into the backseat of his own truck and holy _fuck_ \- they're not just sitting back here. The black haired one straddles him and tucks her head into his neck.

Harry puts his hands on her waist for lack of a better place. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry, we won't kiss you. It's just part of the job." She says.

And he'll be damned. They speak.

"What job? Who hired you? What are they trying to accomplish with this?" Harry rushes out.

The redhead climbs into the back and takes another side of Harry, making a show of being handsy with him. "Shh, don't ask questions. We're almost done anyway."

The windows of his truck fog up and he honestly thought that was only something that happened in movies. Must have something to do with the fact that it's fucking freezing outside and the inside of his car is very much humid and warm.

They smear handprints all across the window, and when it becomes too foggy for anyone to get profile pictures of what's going on, the girls urge him to back up against the window so his cold curls are pressed against the foggy glass.

"Okay, we got some good shots girls, but it's too foggy now! Open the doors on the other side to ventilate it!" Drew calls from a ways away.

Only moments after the doors being opened, there's photographers on both sides, hungrily taking pictures.

"Alright, time to wrap this up. Give it your best go!" Drew cheers them on.

And Harry. Like normal it seems. Doesn't even know what that means. The girls apparently do though because they up their game on Harry's lap and Harry really hates this. He hates every moment of this.

Then the girls start kissing each other and touching each other's breasts and Harry can't shut his eyes fast enough. He throws his head back too, to try and get as much space between them as he can, but grips into their waists so they don't fall and hurt themselves.

He grimaces trying to _erase, erase, erase_ the sight. Shut out the noises of lips smacking and moaning. Close off the parts of his legs that he can feel their crotches against. How is this his life?

"Aaaaaaaand cut!" Drew yells. "Beautiful! Positively beautiful! Good jobs ladies and gent! That's what I like to call a good shoot!"

The girls immediately remove themselves from Harry's lap with courteous 'thank you's and polite smiles.

Harry nearly trips getting out of his truck and stumbles up to Drew. "Are we done here?"

Drew shrugs lackadaisically. "Well that depends on-"

"Am _I_ done here?" Harry raises his voice.

Drew holds a hand to his heart and his voice raises to a higher pitched one of offence. "Well I _suppose_ so. We still have the office portion to film though."

"I'll meet you back at the office then." Harry turns and stomps back to his truck, grabbing his wet tee shirt from off the grass on the way.

He pointedly shuts his brain off the ride back to the office and ignores every soul that looks at him funny as he walks through the Roots building in sopping wet Wranglers and a now see through tee.

When he makes it to the 34th floor, he thanks God that Liam and Niall aren't there and locks himself in a custodial closet.

He collapses to the floor, tucks his knees to his chest and grabs a bucket to vomit into.

He throws up until there's nothing left and then pushes the bucket away from him. He wraps his arms around his legs, buries his face in his knees, and sobs.

~~~

**/Sneak peak for next update/**

"Hey, don't downplay whatever's going on. Who did filming? What were they filming? Was this for the photoshoot you called me about earlier?" Louis probes.

"Kind of." Harry reaches up and tugs at one of his curls. "They did some filming in Central Park, because, you know, I go on my runs every day."

"Well did it go okay?" Louis is still trying to figure out what it is that's gotten to Harry. "Did they make you uncomfortable?"

"I just... didn't want to do it! So I'm sorry." Harry says, his bottled up emotions starting to explode. "They just- I just- It was-" Harry stops to cough out a sob into his arm. "I'm sorry because I need to apologize for it because it was terrible and it looks terrible and I don't know why they made me do it!"

~~~


	23. Chapter 23

 

~~~

L

"Zayn." Louis pokes him.

He doesn't move.

Louis pokes him again. "Zayn."

A small grunt.

Louis speaks up a little louder and pokes harder this time. " _Zayn_."

"Yes sir?" Zayn opens his eyes like he's just been ripped from sleep- which. Yeah. Okay.

"There is nothing to do on this flight." Louis says like it's now Zayn's problem. Because it is.

"I don't know any magic tricks if that's what you're asking for." Zayn croaks out.

"What are the main things that motivate people, Zayn?" Louis asks philosophically.

"Um." Zayn scratches his forehead. "Money, power, glory, sex... food and sleep."

"What do you think is the likelihood of us starving out the flight attendants until they give us what we want?" Louis squints his eyes, theorizing different ways to achieve that.

"In the remaining hours of the flight? Not likely." Zayn flips from his side onto his back. "Plus, that like, violates one of the Geneva Conventions."

"They're different in every country. So depending on where we're flying over now, we may be exempt to whichever convention that's covered under." Louis reasons. If only he paid better attention to these kinds of things.

Well. He can't be the best at everything.

"Look it up then." Zayn mumbles.

"I _can't_. That's exactly the problem. They've restricted all internet access. I think this is quite possibly purgatory." Louis is appalled at the thought. He's never been one to stick by religion, but this feels an awful lot like karma or penance or confession or whatever it is that makes life shitty.

"Well you still have other forms to resort to for bribery then." Zayn offers.

"The parties in question aren't interested in money it would seem. Which kind of knocks out the whole power and glory thing to. Sleeping is no good since there isn't ample time for any kind of sleep deprivation techniques to kick in." Louis drums his fingers against the tray table that was inevitably pulled down again.

"Then go fuck someone to get what you want." Zayn says.

Louis indignantly huffs. "Zayn Malik. I am not a prostitute."

"Never said you were. Just said fuck someone to get what you want." Zayn says like he's still half asleep.

"I'm almost committed. I can do no such thing. I also would not stoop so low as to fuck for company gain." Louis says, wondering why the words feel funny in his mouth.

Oh. Probably because he has stooped that low. Countless times.

He doesn't want to now though, because the one thing he desperately craves is finally within arm's length of him and he's not about to fuck up what he has going with Harry for some Wi-Fi.

Not that Harry would have to know. Louis could always keep it to himself.

But Louis is the kind of man to be honest with himself. And he knows that if he or Harry start lying to each other, then the authenticity and trust of their relationship will be compromised and that's not what Louis wants.

"Your loss then." Zayn yawns.

"What about you?" Louis pokes him again. "Can you please go fuck someone into giving me a god damned Wi-Fi password? Please?"

"My Mistress doesn't allow sexual relations outside of when she is present." Zayn says like he's reciting part of his contract. Which he probably is.

"Jesus, why do I always have to do the dirty work myself?" Louis rubs at his eyes.

"Why do you have to do it at all? Only-" Zayn checks his watch, "six more hours."

"Because all my music is in the cloud rather than on my phone and they don't even have _Metallica_ on the plane's selection so there's no way I can go to sleep. I've read my book and I'm about to go crazy." Louis taps his foot on the floor.

"You _are_ going crazy. Just go to sleep like a normal person. Or go find someone attractive to give you air head." Zayn pauses and chuckles. "Air head."

"Dick head." Louis sneers at him, not appreciating his puns.

"Goodnight." Zayn says.

Louis groans. Six more hours.

~~~

When the plane lands, it's sometime after 10 at night.

The first thing he does is connect to the airport Wi-Fi and send an email to Harry with his Skype username. It should be a little after 7pm in New York, so hopefully Harry is done or almost done with work.

He gets about two hundred emails in his primary inbox and countless others in his other tabs. "Zayn, what did you end up doing about hiring a secretary?"

"Oh, I promoted one of the bomb ass admins in marketing to the position. Marketing will be able to replace and train an admin quicker than we can find and train a secretary for you." Zayn stretches his arms above his head. "I spent all night last night writing up emails for her so she could do her job for at least the next two days until I can give her a call and train her over the phone."

"Thank fuck." Louis does some stretching and bends down to touch his toes.

That means hopefully his email influx should be somewhere under two hundred if he's lucky.

They make it to their hotel an hour later and when Louis gets out of the shower is when there's a notification on his Skype app. He opens it up, and grins when he sees that it's from Harry.

**Hey. Did you make it to Brazil safely?**

Louis notes that Zayn is still in the shower, so they probably have a while until they'll go out to eat. He messages Harry back.

**All in one piece! Are you available to chat for a bit?**

Louis looks down at his state of undress and pulls the towel off his waist- exposing his Mercedes-Benz tattoo on one hip bone and Billie Joe's autograph tattooed on the other. He pulls on some briefs, jeans, and his black button up as another message comes in.

**Sure.**

Louis purses his lips at the simple response. Judging by Harry's lack of smileys or little x's, he's either preoccupied or down.

He clicks on the video icon and waits for their phones to connect.

Harry answers- sitting in his bed with nothing on as far as Louis can see- and is curled up against his headboard. His hair looks soft and fluffy as if he had gotten it washed and blown out. "Hey."

"Hey baby." Louis shimmies his bum backwards onto the bed to push himself up against the headboard. "You doing alright?"

Harry nods. "You're in Brazil?"

"Yep. São Paulo. We have an engineering, creative design, customer service, and operations team here." Louis explains.

"You look like you're in a hotel." He asks, thoroughly confused.

"Yes." Louis says, waiting for Harry to get to his point.

They just kind of stare at each other though. Harry staring at Louis like he's speaking Portuguese and Louis staring at Harry wondering why this is monumental information.

Harry finally speaks. "It looks like an American hotel."

"The Hilton _is_ an American based hospitality chain, so you're not wrong." Louis can't help but smile a little because where is Harry even going with this?

"Oh." Is all Harry says.

Louis blinks a few times. "Baby, are you okay? You seem down."

"Well... do you have internet there?" Harry asks.

"Yes." Louis tries not to laugh. "We're currently using Wi-Fi to converse. The miracle of modern technology."

"Oh." Harry looks down at his lap. "Well, have you been on Twitter?"

"No. I usually try not to spend a lot of time roaming the black hole of social media because it proves to be very draining in terms of productivity." Louis says like the responsible social-media mediating adult he is.

"Some stuff happened today. And I'm sorry. It's not a big deal. I'm fine. But yeah..." Harry trails off.

And how could Louis have missed this? Why does he spend so much time talking about himself and his philosophies? "Harry, what happened today?" He says, trying to keep himself from panicking.

Normally things that have involved Harry and Twitter have been very promiscuous or a positive experience for Harry. Albeit, sometimes humiliating, but all in the right ways.

So the fact that Harry is bringing this up with a heavy heart is disconcerting to say the least.

"It's not a big deal. They just did some filming." Harry says.

"Hey, don't downplay whatever's going on. Who did filming? What were they filming? Was this for the photoshoot you called me about earlier?" Louis probes.

"Kind of." Harry reaches up and tugs at one of his curls. "They did some filming in Central Park, because, you know, I go on my runs every day."

"Well did it go okay?" Louis is still trying to figure out what it is that's gotten to Harry. "Did they make you uncomfortable?"

"I just... didn't want to do it! So I'm sorry." Harry says, his bottled up emotions starting to explode. "They just- I just- It was-" Harry stops to cough out a sob into his arm. "I'm sorry because I need to apologize for it because it was terrible and it looks terrible and I don't know why they made me do it!"

Jesus _Christ_. Louis' heart beats faster as he watches Harry cry and cry and cry. Why the fuck does this have to be happening over the phone? Why can't Louis be with him right now- kissing and cuddling and touching him?

"What happened? What's going on?" Louis tries not to get aggressive at Harry since he did nothing wrong. But someone, somewhere, did something wrong because Harry is now crying about the events of today. Louis will have someone's neck.

Harry drops his face into his knees like the evening Louis was with him in the bathroom stall. God, Louis hates this.

"Baby, whatever happened, it's okay. You're not to blame for anything. You don't need to apologize. You could never look terrible. You're absolutely beautiful love." Louis consoles. "Can you look at me please?"

Harry reaches over to his nightstand to grab a wad of tissues and blow his nose. His nose and cheeks are bright red and his eyes are completely cloudy with tears.

"Whatever happened today doesn't matter. Understand?" Louis takes on a sterner tone so that Harry will listen and remember well. Louis' been in the public eye enough to gather that Harry was possibly victim to some kind of smear campaign that he didn't see coming. Possibly set up to look bad or stupid.

Harry nods.

"You are above whatever went on. Don't worry about the articles and the tabloids. Today will be old news in a month. You are the only one who knows who you are." Louis repeats his words he's shared with Harry before.

"You've told me that before." Harry says in his low voice that's scratchy from crying.

"Can I count on you to remember it then?" Louis asks.

"Yeah." Harry takes a shaky breath and wipes at his eyes again.

And God. Talk about self-control. For as much as Louis loves watching Harry cry and be emotionally vulnerable, he certainly is quick to help calm Harry down.

"Good." Louis settles. "Are you going to be alright now? I hope you know if I were there I would come over and cuddle with you."

"Yeah." Harry lets a secret smile show. "Thank you for calling."

"Of course baby." Louis smirks back. "I might not be able to call a lot since I'll be doing dozens of meetings, but we'll message a lot, okay?"

"Okay." Harry bites at his lips. "Sleep well."

"I'm actually headed to eat dinner since Brazilians dinner time is more around 10 or 11." Louis stands off his bed. "I'll send you pictures of my dinner? I'll get something authentic for you to see." Because Louis gets the vibe that Harry has never been out of the United States and certainly not frequented any kind of foreign cuisine restaurants.

Harry's face certainly lights up at the suggestion. "Yeah! That would... yeah."

"Alright. Talk to you later baby." Louis already knows exactly what place he wants to go with Zayn

"Bye." Harry says shyly.

"Bye." Louis gives him a suggestive wiggle of the eyebrows, and once he is sufficiently sure that Harry is in a good mood and giggling, he hangs up with a smile etched on his face.

"So you two are really doing it then?" Zayn's voice speaks up from behind Louis.

"Jesus!" Louis jumps. "Way to startle me."

"I think it's cool. Breaks the whole stereotype of heartless CEO's and their sadistic desires and fucked up childhoods." Zayn chuckles a little.

"Who said I wasn't any of those things?" Louis instantly glowers at Zayn.

"I just think it's nice to see your soft side." Zayn lifts an eyebrow innocuously.

Louis squints at him. "Are you mocking me?"

Zayn just smiles.

"You do realize I'm your _boss_ , right?" Louis reaffirms.

"Is mocking you going to get me fired?" Zayn asks without any trace of fear.

Louis opens his mouth and shuts it again. "As long as it never happens in front of others."

"Of course not Mr. Tomlinson." Zayn walks over and drops his towel to get dressed.

He has a very nice ass, but Louis looks away since he wasn't invited to watch.

"Louis. Just call me Louis." Louis says because, hey. Zayn now has the privilege of mocking Louis and Louis has stared at Zayn's bare ass. They're in a foreign country together, so they may as well be on a first name basis.

"Alright then Louis." Zayn slips on his shoes. "Down to the lobby for some grub?"

"Actually, let's go out." Louis brushes himself off and grabs the key card. "I know a great place."

~~~

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

  
~~~

**Cowboy Casanova**

_It would seem that greenhorn, Harry Styles, has finally revealed his true colors!_

_The 25-year-old cowboy from Kentucky was said to be filming an interview in Central Park earlier today. Our insider tells us that he had a swarm of ladies trailing him the entire time and constantly requested to stop in the middle of filming so he could go talk to his fans. Narcissistic or sweet? We'll let you decide!_

_However, spectators say that the second they completed filming, he invited a few lucky girls to spend the afternoon with him. Tara, 21, has this to say about the rancher turned business rookie: "Harry was nothing but a charmer. My friends and I heard he would be at Central Park on Twitter and we're so glad we went! Harry came straight up to us and asked in his dreamy accent if we wanted to hang around for a while. I could have died!"_

_Looks like Harry knows all the right moves to put on the city girls! The saying about ladies loving country boys must be true! The love wasn't discriminated either. Styles had at least a dozen girls with him before the afternoon was finished and his truck was squeaky clean._

_Samantha, 19, was also there and shared with us what sparked the impromptu car wash. "He said he had to go because he had errands to run. We asked if we could help him with anything and he smirked at us and asked if we could call our friends to bring sponges and soap to wash his car. We were all on the phone in seconds and it just escalated from there."_

_And it certainly looks like it did escalate! Not even the cold December weather cooled the steamy wash down. In fact, it only seemed to fuel it! Sources say that Styles had been flirting with two girls in particular and invited him into the back of his truck. Don't believe us? The pics tell all!_

_Watch out ladies! Harry Styles is here to stay and break hearts along the way. We only wonder the next time our favorite farmer will be out and about flaunting his muscles and charisma._

Louis lifts his eyebrows at the extremely provocative photos littered across the webpage. Harry is shirtless in almost all of them. The girls' barely-there clothing leave nothing to the imagination. There's a picture of a girl pinning him against the truck and Harry gripping into her hips as they kiss while another girl appears to be dancing on the hood of the truck. Another picture shows him in the cab with fogged up windows, head thrown back in the throes of passion while two girls make out in his lap.

"Damn." Zayn says. "They certainly did him in."

Louis honestly didn't think it would be this bad. He expected smear, yes. But this is on another level considering he knows how Harry felt about it all.

"Hand me my phone." Louis continues staring at his computer screen.

Zayn pulls it from the charger and slides it across the desk to Louis. "Remember it's midnight in the States. And it's $2.71 a minute."

"I'm a god damned multi-billionaire. Ask me again if I give a mother fuck." Louis clicks on his favorites and rings Niall.

"Desmond Styles assistant, Mr. Horan. How can I help you?" Niall says professionally.

Louis quirks an eyebrow. "You're still at work."

"Busy training Mr. Payne who nearly lost his job today." Niall says, obviously in front of Liam.

Louis doesn't care about Liam and his ineptitude though. "Who was behind the photoshoot?"

"That would be Mr. Styles, sir." Niall says.

Louis should have guessed. "And who directed the shoot?"

"His name is Drew Johnson. 36 and Graduate of NYU. Married to his partner of three years. No kids." Niall informs, since he knows Louis is about to end the man's career and Louis will find out who he is anyway.

"Thank you." Louis hangs up and dials Frankie.

"Frankie." Frankie answers moments later.

"I want you ensuring that Drew Johnson never gets near another camera crew again. NYU graduate. 36 years old, married to his partner." Louis demands.

"It will be done by morning." Frankie says.

"Your payment will be transferred immediately." Louis hangs up.

"Who the hell are these people you're calling at this hour that actually answers?" Zayn asks.

Louis holds a finger up as he rings Desmond next.

It rings and rings and rings.

Desmond doesn't answer.

The voicemail signals for Louis to leave a message.

"The things you're willing to put your son through in order to create a fake image is detestable. If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will ruin you. As it were, I'm releasing a public privacy invasion warning for your cloud users. Think twice before putting Harry's well-being at stake."

Louis seethes and sends off the necessary emails while Zayn watches in silence.

Louis slams his laptop shut.

"So." Zayn begins.

"Niall is my best friend of 14 years. We worked as bellhops together when we dropped out of school. He got hired on at Roots and thought it would be funny if I went to work for Metal Core. After years of growing in our perspective positions, he decided he wanted to go the path of being a personal assistant, and I, the CEO. So he started hinting at things that would help me advance to where I wanted to be. I quickly became noticed and favored by all the higher-ups and advanced rapidly. When I became CEO, I arranged a proper contract, hiring him as my..." Louis waves his hand around in the air, looking for the term, "double agent, if you will."

Zayn seems to be keeping up right along with everything though. "And Frankie?"

"He's whatever I need him to be." Louis strips out of his clothes and into his scarlet robe. "Most of the time my P.I. Sometimes my liaison between the Crips, DDP, or Bloods."

"You're not going to have this Drew guy killed are you?" Zayn asks, appalled, and moves himself further away from Louis.

Louis scoffs. "Heavens no. I hardly think Frankie will go there with this particular situation. I trust his judgement implicitly though."

Zayn clears his throat. "And I assume the last person you rang was Desmond?"

"Indeed." Louis clasps his hand together.

"There wasn't a security breach was there?" Zayn asks, rhetorically.

Louis shakes his head.

Zayn nods, slowly understanding. "But people will think their personal information has been leaked- stocks go down, customers panic, company chaos, class action suits, finance gets fucked over, shareholders get pissed..."

"You got it babe." Louis pours himself a glass of water.

"You know; this is Harry's company too? Everything you do against Desmond affects the company that he inherits." Zayn says like he personally owns a much greater amount of sympathy than Louis.

"Harry doesn't want it. He's free of it March 26th." Louis empties the glass.

"And what happens after that? He just works as his dad's partner? Is he going to take Niall's place? Or just go back to Kentucky?" Zayn wonders.

"He'll be moved in with me by then and he can do whatever he wants." Louis dismisses easily.

"He's moving in?" Zayn reiterates.

"That's what I just fucking said." Louis goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Zayn follows him. "When? And how is that going to work when the paps start trailing him home?"

Louis squeezes the tube too hard and gets too much toothpaste on his brush. He shoves it in his mouth anyway and speaks around the apparatus. "I'll have him moved in by CES as long as I work my ass off between now and then to make it happen." Foam drools down his chin and he spits. "Which I will."

"And what about the paps? Are you guys going public?" Zayn asks.

"We will by then." Louis says confidently.

"You realize you can't go public right before he steps in as CEO? It's a death sentence to Roots. They're one of the biggest contributors to the conservative political party and some constitutional anti-gay organization. Harry _can't_ be gay." Zayn says, sufficiently worked up over the whole ordeal.

"Well he is." Louis chucks his toothbrush into its holder. "And that's Desmond's mess to deal with. Not Harry's."

Louis trudges towards his bed, upset that he's upset, because he really doesn't have much of a reason to be. He glares at Zayn who is still in his room. "Are you sleeping with me? Or just hoping to stay up and tell ghost stories?"

"Sorry." Zayn turns around. "See you tomorrow then. Sleep well." Zayn shuts Louis' door behind him, going through the living room of the hotel into his bedroom. Louis hears the door shut in the distance.

He's alone.

Fuck.

He's alone.

He sticks in his earbuds and turns on his music to silence his mind.

~~~  
  
H

Harry downloads a Brazil clock in one of his apps so that he can always see what time it is.

He's gotten pictures of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners that he can't even pronounce the names of. Several of them had pictures of Louis in them. Harry noted that he seems to wear suits most of the time unless there was a large gap between meetings; then he'll change into something more low key for walking about the town.

Harry's also noticed Zayn goes everywhere with him. Harry is shamelessly jealous. Not so much because it's _Zayn_ , but because _of_ Zayn. The few times they've Skyped in the hotel room, Zayn has always been lounging about and in Louis' presence. Zayn is in or near Louis in almost every picture. Harry can hear him in the background of nearly every phone call.

Harry just wishes he could _be_ Zayn. Wishes he could be with Louis physically.

Harry knows all too well what it's like to have someone be out of reach of physical contact and knows that the priority of business lies above that of relationships; but it doesn't stop him from pining late at night.

The articles about Harry being a womanizer haven't calmed down any. He's noticed more paparazzi trailing him and taking pictures at random times, along with more girls progressively showing up on his jogging route in Central Park each day.

As much as he loathed the day of the photoshoot, it served him well in finally coming to terms with the fact that he is gay.

It's not that he had ever wondered if he was bisexual. He's only ever been attracted to men. But there was something about facing that fact head on that forced him to admit that he is the way he is.

It's been easier too. He has Louis to help him through things. Not that Harry is particularly vocal about it. It's the small things that make a world of a difference for Harry. The small texts here and there that are just to check in and see how Harry is doing. The pictures of Louis' meals that Harry hasn't ever seen before. The things Louis does just to let him know that even though he's in a different hemisphere, he's still there for Harry.

It's the fourth day when Louis sends him screenshots. It takes Harry a couple minutes to figure out that they are people's comments on Instagram and- _oh_.

**Babys ass looks so good**

**princess been bad?**

**10/10**

**That booty is JUST RIGHT damn**

**I havent stopped cumming since I saw this**

**Im actually choking on my sandwich**

**Nice**

**id eat dat booty more than my own groceries**

**How much for 1 nite??**

Harry unbuttons another two buttons of his silk shirt down and uses the loose material to fan himself. He texts Louis with his free hand.

**People really said those things?**

He leaves his station at Liam's desk to go to the bathroom. He has to adjust his pants. Several times. And every time he adjusts, his problem just gets... bigger.

His phone vibrates, making him jump.

**Of course baby. And so much more.**

Harry lets out a shaky exhale wondering what else people could be saying. He decides to ask Louis.

**What other kinds of things do they say?**

Harry looks around and notes that he's all alone in the bathroom. The only people that would even use this bathroom anyway are his father, Niall, and Liam. All of whom are not here. He goes into largest stall and reads the next text that comes in from Louis.

**Don't want to get you too hard in the middle of work babe.**

Harry smashes his face against the cold drywall and resists palming himself more and responds.

**Too late... Can I touch myself please?**

Harry digs his nails into his thigh because he doesn't want to touch unless Louis gives him permission. He eagerly anticipates the text and loves how free he feels.

His phone vibrates, ripping him from his sentiments.

**Touch yourself soft and slow. Send me a pic.**

Fire heats up Harry's groin even more and he struggles to get his phone to change from the front facing camera.

His shaky hands click the shutter button, capturing his hand wrapped around his cock with his black Chelsea boots in the background in stark contrast to the wooden flooring. He sends it to Louis and notices that he already has two texts from him.

**I'm in a meeting right now. You're turning me on in front of all these important people.**

**Can't wait to see your cock baby. It'll be our secret. I'll have to turn down the brightness on my phone so the ambassador of Brazil doesn't see xx**

Harry accidentally lets out a very vocal whine at that. He instantly pumps himself faster, then stops because he remembers Louis literally _just_ told him to keep it slow. His knees wobble as he leans his face against the side of the wall again.

Skype informs Harry that Louis has received and read the picture and another message from Louis comes in moments later.

**Jfc your cock is so gorgeous. Wish I was there to make you feel good. Is anyone else in the bathroom with you?**

Harry's head snaps up as adrenaline zips through his body because he totally forgot that he's in a public setting. Someone could have walked in only moments ago and Harry didn't hear it.

He closes his eyes to listen for the sound of anyone and doesn't hear anything. At least not in the bathroom. He can hear Niall and Liam conversing down the hall though.

He messages Louis back.

**No one but me. Niall and Liam are at the front desk.**

Harry takes a steady breath as his handshakes and rubs his cock up and down. It's a little like torture. It's not gratifying- only teasing. Louis could tell him to stop at any moment and deny him of his orgasm.

Louis' message pops up on the screen.

**What do you think they would say if they walked in on you hmm? Did you at least lock the bathroom this time? We don't want them seeing you like I did at the industry mixer.**

Harry bites his lip, loving and hating the embarrassment of the memory and how well it ties into the current situation. Harry really can't control himself. He's out there for anyone to possibly walk in on at any time.

His breaths come short and labored as he imagines Louis walking in on him right now. His heart pounds out of his chest for more than one reason.

**You still going slow baby?**

Harry nods against the wall, feeling stupid because Louis can't fucking see him. He makes small moans in the back of his throat as he musters up the self-control to focus on texting Louis back.

**It's hard.**

And Harry knows somewhere in his brain that it's not the most intelligible answer that he's come up with and that it probably is answering three different things that Louis didn't ask. But the blood pumping to his cock is slowly turning it a dark red and he leans his shoulder into the wall too because it's getting harder to stand.

Harry looks to the screen as another message comes in.

**Such a good boy. Wish I could see your pretty red cheeks and kiss your beautiful lips.**

It hits Harry, really hits him, that he misses Louis. He misses Louis in a way that he knows is a stronger attachment than he has to anyone else. He misses the way Louis looks at him and talks to him and makes him feel.

Harry is probably very selfish, but he wishes Louis was here. It almost does, with the influx of messages. But it's still not quite the same.

**When you come, I want you getting it all over your hand and the wall. Then I want you to send me a picture of you cleaning it with your tongue.**

The small moans in the back of Harry's throat turns into a low and audible one. Louis wants. So Harry will give. Harry would give anything for Louis. He can't wait to give him that picture.

He relies heavily on autocorrect to help him through his next message he sends.

**Can I come now please?**

Harry hates how pitiful it sounds when typed out on his screen in bold, glowing letters. It stares him in the face mocking how desperate he is. He thinks Louis might like it though.

Another vibration and Harry looks at his phone.

**Oops, had to pull out my laptop and Skype popped open. Our conversation just got projected for everyone in the room to see. Your cock looks so pretty in high def baby. The ambassador is sweating and Zayn is blushing.**

Harry _comes_. He screeches trying to suppress his high moans and he comes hard. Harry feels the liquid drip down his hand and down his suit pants and onto the wall and floor.

He pants and shoves his fingers in his mouth to lick off the come and takes a picture of it. Then he attacks the wall like some kind of _maniac_ , licking up his come and tasting dried paint and cleaner along with it. After he takes another picture and sends it, he double checks the wall to make sure he's licked it all up.

He has, but it doesn't feel complete yet. With wide eyes, Harry looks down at his shoes and the small puddle of come next to them. He doesn't even _bother_ texting Louis to ask. He just _does_. He wants to overachieve and please. He wants to send the pictures so that they get projected while Louis' computer is still up.

He pulls off his shoe to lick it clean, snapping a picture. Then gets face-first to the floor and licks the wood. He hungrily laps up his come like he might actually be an animal parched for water.

With some smeared on his chin and a little still on his tongue, he takes the last picture of himself licking his come off the floor. He didn't bother looking at the camera or worrying to make any of the damn photos aesthetic, so he just prays they turned out and he didn't accidentally take pictures of the ceiling instead.

He sits on his bare ass, the taste of cleaners still fresh on his tongue and his right shoe still in his other hand.

He stares at the fancily painted drywall for a minute while his cock goes down. There's a tiny bit of come drying on his pants. He doesn't care much though.

His phone's vibration gives him something to focus on. He stares at the screen.

**Holy fucking shit.**

Harry lies on his back and smiles at the ceiling.

~~~

**/Sneak Peek for Next Update/**

Get up and go to the kitchen."  Louis demands.

Harry's eyes go wide and he throws the blanket off the bed.  Louis watches the setting change from Harry's room, through his god-awful makeshift plywood door, to the hallway, to the kitchen.  He meets Louis' eyes, waiting for what's next.

"Show me your ice maker."  Louis runs his tongue along his bottom lip.

Harry looks extremely confused, but opens the freezer and opens up the ice box anyway.  The camera view goes in on it. 

Crescent moon shaped ice cubes.  Perfect.

~~~


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: I'm a bit overdue on this note but only just remembered because there is mention of the time difference again in this chapter. I normally try to be meticulous with these kinds of things, so I apologize for the inaccuracy. I won't be changing it until I've completed the story though, so ya'll can just pardon my mess up and continue enjoying.                

Snapchat: @ mypenguin143  
Twitter: @ dannieybarra / @ lemonsuccubus   
Tumblr: @ dannieybarra / @ lemonsuccubus   
Instagram: @dannieybarra / @ lemonsuccubus

Loves! xxx Dannie

~~~

L

"Nice one mate."  Zayn says, wiping the spilled drink off of his lap.

"Sorry."  Louis says, flustered and hiding his phone from Zayn.

"What, are you guys sexting or something?"  Zayn teases.

Louis' hand accidentally hits the fork that's resting on the plate, sending the forkful of food into Zayn's face and the utensil clattering to the ground. 

"Oh my God, I'm never going to restaurants with you again."  Zayn wipes the rice from his eyes since all the napkins are currently in his lap where Louis' spilled water is.

"Fuck."  Louis stands up to walk it off, a few other patrons of the restaurant giving him a look. 

He shouldn't be letting some casual midday sexting get to him this much.  He's done it a billion times.  He was between appetizers and the main course when he was idly checking his Instagram page for any good responses to send to Harry.  He didn't anticipate it ending with Louis feeling cock blocked and bothered.

It's pathetic that all of this has Louis considering holing up in some dingy public restroom stall for a wank.

He looks back down at Skype where the recent influx of Harry's pictures lie.  God, he licked the fucking _floor_ without Louis even suggesting it. 

Louis closes his eyes and runs through some quick breathing exercises to keep himself from growing hard.  He does, in fact, have a meeting with the ambassador of Brazil and a lot of important people in 10 minutes.  But he very much would _not_ like to be turned on for the event.  Nor would he ever in a million years want such intimate pictures of Harry and his face being projected to a dozen strangers.

Harry, apparently, does though.  Louis assumes he fucking orgasmed at the thought since he got the pictures quickly after sending his brilliant message.

Louis' chest heaves just thinking about Harry.  It's heavy and exciting and he very much wants to fly back to fucking New York to cuddle his boy and bring him down.

He'll check in with Harry throughout the day to make sure he feels safe and taken care of.

Work though.  Work.  He's in public, and he's working.  Business.

Louis lets the feelings fade away as he goes back into business mode.

~~~

H

Harry walks back out to the front desk and sits quietly in the corner.

"Liam, we've been through this five times.  I _showed_ you twice how to do it last night."  Niall points fervently at the computer screen.

"Sorry!  This program just looks a lot like the other one.  I don't see why we use both when we can just use one.  This program can show both meetings."  Liam defends.

"We don't because that's not how we _run_.  Because if you try putting both meetings in this program, but not this one, you're going to fuck up Harry and Mr. Styles' schedules and then the shareholders show up to an empty office and we have to send them to the spa for a fucking hour until their schedules clear."  Niall raises his voice.

"Well why can't we just put it both places?"  Liam asks.

"I told you!  If it goes in this program, it gets sent out to seven other departments and they are not to know of their personal schedules; otherwise they take it upon themselves to directly transfer calls or meetings or fucking updates to whatever snakes come along and try to infringe on their time."  Niall huffs.

"Hey Niall, I can take over."  Harry tries intervening.

"Thank God you're back.  Next time you take a 10-minute bathroom break, give me a fucking heads up so I'm not stuck babysitting."  Niall snatches his phone from the desk and immediately presses it to his ear to make a call. 

Harry doesn't apologize.  He's not sorry.

He grins to himself

Liam spins around.  "Wait, Niall-"

"Yes, this is Mr. Styles PA.  I apologize about the mix up."  Niall quickly retreats down the hallway and into his office.

Harry pities Liam.  He walks over to sit next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.  "Hey it's okay.  Niall's just really... uptight.  Don't take it personally."

Liam pushes against the sides of his head with his hands.  "This is just so frustrating.  I should have this down by now.  I just wonder sometimes if Mr. Tomlinson was right.  I am incompetent."

Harry's heart does a flip at the mention of Louis.  Anything having to do with Louis makes his heart have palpitations.  He reins in the feeling though because he has an employee to comfort.

"Hey, Li.  You are above whatever he said to you.  Don't worry about it.  You are the only one who knows who you are."  He echoes Louis' words to him.

Liam sighs.  "I know you're right.  It's just hard.  Like, I love everyone here.  But Niall makes it feel like I haven't left Metal Core at all.  They're so alike- Niall and Mr. Tomlinson."

Harry hums.  "Yeah they kind of are.  I wouldn't worry about it though.  Niall has his own personal stuff he deals with I think.  And I'm sure Lou- Mr. Tomlinson does too." 

Harry pulls a face at himself at the almost slip up.

Liam doesn't seem to notice.  "Yeah, I think you're right."

"If it would be easier, I could get you transferred to a different department?  I know billing just had a position open up."  Harry offers.

Liam shakes his head.  "No, it's okay.  I can do this."

"Yes you can!"  Harry says enthusiastically, scaring Liam a little.  "You can do it!  We'll show Niall.  You'll be the best damn secretary out there." 

A smile creeps across his face.  "Yeah.  Yeah!  I will be."

"Alright!"  Harry claps him on the back.  "Now re-teach me everything Niall has shoved down your throat in the last 24 hours."

Liam gives him a look of horror.

Lenny taught him though, the quickest way to learn something well is to teach it to someone else.  So that's exactly what Harry is going to help Liam do.

Harry gives an encouraging smile and they get to work.

~~~

L

Louis tosses and turns in his bed.  He yanks his earbuds out.  He's too keyed up to sleep.

The rest of the day had gone well.  The meetings had gone well.  The operations team was in fantastic hands.  Their relationship with Brazil was still going swimmingly. 

It's just that he's alone.  Again.  The last three nights he's been alone with Zayn in the room across the living room from him.

And fuck it.  He's sure Harry is still awake anyway.  It's only 11 in New York. 

He puts his earbuds back in, clicking on the video icon.  He hopes Zayn won't hear him.

Harry's face pops up on the screen- except it's black.  Then moments later, Louis hears a lamp get switched on and Harry's face comes into view.

"Hey."  Harry grins.

"Hey."  Louis says back.

"You're still dark."  Harry grins a little wider, showing off his dimples.

Louis sits up and clicks on his lamp.  "Forgot."

"'S okay."  Harry's smile falls a little.  "Are you alright?"

"What?  Yes, I'm fine."  Louis dismisses.  "How are you baby?"  His brain tries to kick into Dom mode.

"I'm good."  Harry lets the silence sit for a minute.  "I saw on Twitter today that you and Zayn are dating."

Louis faintly smiles.  "Yeah.  Thought I saw some paps out today."

"They think you picked him up in a local bar."  Harry says, amused.

Louis rolls his eyes.  "I'm sure Zayn will be thrilled to hear that."

It's silent again, but at least Louis is looking at Harry.

"Louis?"  Harry chews on his bottom lip.

"Yeah baby?"  Louis sets back against the headboard and pulls a pillow into his lap.

"What's wrong?"  Harry looks like he might start quivering.

God, Louis is transparent.  Fucking see-though and Harry sees his weakness.  Sees it and is scared by it.  Can't handle it.  Louis is a terrible Dom.

"Jet lag.  Just jet lag.  I'm fucking fine."  Louis snaps.

Harry just nods, making no move to apologize.  "How was your day then?"

"Very productive."  Louis says.  "How about yours?"

"Was good."  Harry says cautiously. 

It's silent again for a minute.

"The food that you sent me a picture of at dinner... what was it called again?  Maquada?"  Harry tries.

"Moqueca."  Louis corrects.  "The q and c both make a k sound."

"Weird."  Harry seems fascinated and dazed by the information for a moment.  "What is it again?"

"It's basically a fish stew."  Louis responds.

Harry chews on the inside of his cheek.  "Did you like it?"

"Yes.  Are you planning on trying it in the near future or just recently taken a fascination to piscine culinary dishes?"  Louis says a little too harshly.

Harry blinks like he's confused.

"Fish dishes.  Do you have an obsession for fish?"  Louis asks shortly.

"I... was just trying to make conversation."  Harry says, still very confused.

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose.  "Right.  I'm sorry."

"It's fine."  Harry looks down at his lap.

Harry keeps his mouth shut after that.

"Moqueca is..." Louis tries to start over.  "It's served in a terra-cotta clay pot.  They served it with shark.  It's a little spicy because of a paste they use."

"You ate shark?"  Harry asks suddenly.

"Yeah...?"  Louis doesn't see the sudden need for excitement.

"What does it taste like?"  Harry sits up straighter.

Louis' eye twitches as he ponders on it a moment.  "Like chicken I guess.  It's kind of mild... and meaty.  It's usually rinsed and marinated prior to cooking though because sharks urinate through their skin."

Harry's upper lip curls.  "Sounds... interesting."

Louis shrugs.  "It's shark."

"You have it a lot?"  Harry asks.

He wants to make another snarky remark about the pointless and redundant conversation they're having.  He bites his tongue though because that will make Harry sad again and really, what the hell else is Louis doing?  He's so lonely that he'd rather have an hour long discussion about his eating preferences than face the silence of sleep.

"Not too often.  I prefer softer meats."  Louis sighs.  "How was your day?"

"It was good."  He gives a secret smile like it's an inside joke with himself. 

"Good."  Louis says.

"Oh, but I almost messed up at work."  Harry's face falls.

"You've already used your free punishment for December."  Louis jumps ahead to that part of the conversation.

"No, I almost broke one of the rules."  Harry says, trying to get Louis' attention.

"What did you do?"  Louis asks patiently.

"I almost called you Louis.  Or well, I did.  But just the first half of your name."  Harry explains.  "Should I spank myself?"

Oh.  Louis stays silent to decide on what to do. 

"No.  Get up and go to the kitchen."  Louis demands.

Harry's eyes go wide and he throws the blanket off the bed.  Louis watches the setting change from Harry's room, through his god-awful makeshift plywood door, to the hallway, to the kitchen.  He meets Louis' eyes, waiting for what's next.

"Show me your ice maker."  Louis runs his tongue along his bottom lip.

Harry looks extremely confused, but opens the freezer and opens up the ice box anyway.  The camera view goes in on it. 

Crescent moon shaped ice cubes.  Perfect.

"Pull out one ice cube.  Make sure it's perfectly shaped.  Then I want you to run it under cool water for a moment until the tacky, adhesive layer of ice is melted away.  Run your finger along the hard edges until they're softened."  Louis' eyes focus in on Harry.

He shuts the freezer and runs the cube under the facet.  His eyebrows furrow as he runs his thumb along the harsh edge.

"Okay, they're soft now and it's not sticky anymore."  Harry looks to Louis.

"Prop the phone up so I can see your face.  Use your pinky to put the ice in your ass."  Louis says calmly.

Harry's breath catches and his face snaps back up to Louis. 

"Do I need to repeat myself?"  Louis lifts an eyebrow.

Harry's curls fly back and forth as he shakes his head. 

"Make sure it doesn't slip."  Louis bites his lip as Harry's hands disappear behind his back. 

Harry's eyes widen to twice their size.  "Fucking freezing."

"Only on the rim.  Push it in as far as your finger will reach."  Louis lazily watches.  If he knew he had this to look forward to, he certainly would have held off his wank till after the shower.

Harry holds his breath and he closes his eyes.  His mouth opens up a little and a small noise escapes his mouth.

"Ah- it- it God."  Harry's hands come to the front and he leans them against the counter.  "It aches.  Feels good.  'S like, cold and warm."

"Next time you're at work, I hope this will serve as a reminder of your wrongdoings."  Louis specifically makes sure to avoid the word 'remember.'  He knows Harry will remember.  But he still wants to reinforce why Harry is being punished to help him remember in the future.

"Oh my _God_."  Harry clenches his eyes shut.  "'S cold.  It's like- _ah_."  His body squirms as he fights to stay in front of the camera for Louis.

"What are you supposed to call me at work Harry?"  Louis feels his own blood pump a little faster.

"Mr. Tomlinson."  Harry writhes.  " _Jesus_."

Louis simpers at his boy.  "Very good baby."

Harry plants his cheek against the counter and it looks like he's grinding his body on the counter.  "It _hurts_." 

Louis knows he's fine.  He knows the pain he's describing because he's had it done to him and he's done it a thousand times to his subs.  He knows the research behind it and isn't imminently worried about it causing harm to him in any way.  But he's a good Dom and needs to make sure his sub is okay because regardless of the situation, it's all about how they perceive it.

"Color baby."  Louis urges.

" _Green_."  Harry stands straight up and paces back and forth.  "I think.  Yeah.  Green Mr. Tomlinson."  He wraps his arms around his abdomen.

Louis smirks.  "Say it again baby."

"Green Mr. Tomlinson."  Harry looks directly at the camera with wide eyes and a quivering body.  "'M cold everywhere.  It's dripping down my legs."

"Good."  Louis glances to the nightstand clock.  "Just another minute or two before it's all melted.  Go get back in bed."

"Yes Mr. Tomlinson."  Harry picks up the phone and walks back to his room with his bottom lip between his teeth.

And more than anything it makes Louis grin.  Being called Mr. Tomlinson reminds him of himself and Harry in front of other people.  The small bouts of giddiness of having to acknowledge each other without acting too close.  The reminder that they're not supposed to be together.  The reminder that everyone else but them can fuck right off.

Harry wraps himself tightly in his old and tattered blanket.

"Feeling better baby?"  Louis notes that Harry looks significantly calmer now.

"Yeah.  It's... diminishing.  And I'm more used to it now.  Still cold though."  Harry snuggles up against his headboard.

"Perfect.  You're perfect baby.  I'm so proud of you.  You always do so well."  Louis praises.

Harry gives him a shy smile.  "I'm glad you're feeling better too."

And well.  Look at that.  Louis forgot he ever was having trouble sleeping.  Harry just.  He puts Louis in the right zone.  For everything really.

"Sometimes I have a hard time sleeping."  Louis lets slip because it's those moments after a scene he feels closest to his subs.

Harry's face goes sympathetic.  "My mom used to have trouble sleeping after my father left us."

Louis' heart pulls at that.  "I'm sorry."

"I used to tell her stories to help her fall asleep."  Harry's eyes glance somewhere off screen.  "I could tell you stories if you want."

Louis feels very put on the spot.  Very vulnerable and too open.  He swallows around a dry mouth.  Honestly, it sounds really nice.  Louis just has no idea how to admit to that.  How to let his sub take care of him.

"Louis?"  Harry asks.

And, right.  It's Louis.  Not Daddy.  It's Harry.  Not his sub.

Louis tries not to bite at his fingernails and wrings one of his wrists instead. 

"Yeah-" his voice cracks, so he clears his throat and tries again, "yeah, let's hear your best Harold."

"You can call me Haz you know."  Harry instantly beams.  "The British girl at our company says that's what my nickname would be in Britland-" Harry furrows his eyebrows, "I mean London.  No-!"  Harry shakes his head, "England.  God why is that one so complex?"

Louis laughs at that.  "Close baby.  Try the United Kingdom, or just the UK.  It's easiest and most generic."

"Okay."  Harry smiles.  "In the UK my nickname would be Haz."

Louis nods, loving that Harry is slowly getting cultured.  "Very well then Haz.  Give it your best shot.  But I want a true story."

"Okay."  Harry perks up.  "And it's okay if you fall asleep in the middle of it.  My mom always did, and that's how I know I did a good job."

Louis purses his lips.  The thought of slipping from consciousness into a state of sleeping in front of Harry unnerves him completely.  Harry watching as his brain shuts down and becomes defenseless.  Being the last one on the phone to watch Louis sleep.  God that would- that would make Harry in control of the situation.

He already knows he definitely will not be falling asleep. 

"Okay.  Well I'm a very attentive story listener.  So don't be offended if I'm still awake by the end."  Louis prepares him.

Harry nods like it's not a big deal though.  "Promise."

Louis looks around because he doesn't really know what to do with himself.  He supposes laying down would be a good start.  And turning off his lamp.  That wouldn't be weird would it?  The light from his phone will still allow Harry some visibility to his face.

He settles himself in and fluffs up his pillow.  Harry simply beams as he watches Louis get comfortable, then he apparently deems it time to start his story.

"So when I was 10 years old I wanted a dog more than anything."  Harry speaks slowly and confidently, accent more pronounced than normal, and Louis likes the sound of it. 

"I begged my mum for one every day and told her I would do whatever it takes to get a dog.  Told her I'd do all the training and feeding and housebreaking, even though he wasn't supposed to be allowed in the house.

"My mum said I could get one if I could pay for it.  So every day that summer, I went into The Mercantile to sweep floors and wipe down their counters and dust the shelves, but I was really short so I always had to drag the stool around everywhere so I could reach everything.

"Grady 'n Mona helped me too.  Grady would go trap stray cats, tame them for a couple days, then sell them to farmers that needed good mousers.  Mona always made lemonade and sold it outside The Mercantile.

"By the end of the summer, we'd made $80 which was so much money.  Then my neighbor's bitch had a litter of pups and was sellin' 'em for a buck thirty each.  Me 'n Grady 'n Mona all went and begged her to lower the price for us 'cause we were fifty short."

Louis just grins and isn't about to correct Harry on his speech.  He hardly understood what he said anyway, but it involves a 10-year-old Harry and his friends trying to get a dog and it has Louis grinning like an idiot.

"So Miss Tren'on said she'd give me the runt 'n I had to come by every day till school started to help her tend the dogs to make up for what I owed 'er and then she'd give me him after I was done payin' my debt.

"Every day I went over and tended the pups and the mum and the dad too.  Mr. Tren'on taught me everythin' he knew about dog rearin' and trainin'.  When I got done tending 'em, I'd always hole up and read their dog trainin' books 'cause I didn't know nothin' about it, but wanted a proper cowdog.

"Then on the day 'afore school started for fifth grade, she gave me the runt.  He was already weaned off the mum too, so I took him home that night.  Me 'n Grady 'n Mona named him Rover 'n we all watched Old Yeller together, 'cept I covered Rover's eyes when Old Yeller got shot 'cause I didn't want to make him scared of me."

Louis yawns because his cheeks are starting to strain from smiling so much.  He yawns another two times in succession as Harry continues with his story.  Louis has no idea when the story ends, but he's interested in hearing everything Harry has to say on the matter.

"That first night, Rover pissed my bed three times and ralphed 'cause Grady snuck him some of his beef 'n potatoes.  Didn't get much better after that.  Rover pissed my bed almost every night 'till Christmas 'n I ended up sleeping on the floor most o' the time 'n let 'im have the bed.

"It took me forever to potty train 'im since we didn't have enough money to buy dog treats.  So instead, I killed one 'o our chickens and took it into the woods to gut it and laid the meat out to turn it into jerky for Rover.  Once I had the chicken jerky, Rover trained real fast.  With everything really."

Louis turns down the brightness on his phone because the brightness makes his eyes strain and feel too dry.  He yawns again and rolls onto his side.

"Was hardest teachin' him howda round up the heifers.  Like, I think he knew innately what he was 'apposed to do 'cause he'd randomly nip at their heels 'n stuff.  But I did what Mr. Tren'on taught me in his books and used my jerky and eventually trained 'im. 

"It was hard after he was trained too though, 'cause we had this old four-wheeler that Grady 'n I repaired that we'd use to drive around the farm with or drive around the town to pick up feed 'cause our mommas wouldn't let us drive till we were 12, so Rover'd try to round us up too.  Mona broke Rover's foot once 'cause he was try'na get her to turn around and go back in the pasture and jumped in front 'o her.  He learned his lesson after that though."

Louis' eyes droop as he listens to Harry talk and talk and talk.  He talks about how Rover was all of their dog.  How Rover always chewed on Harry's favorite quilt from the time he was a puppy all the way into adulthood.  How he saved Grady one time from a moose and Mona from being stranded and out of gas in the woods.  How he's saved Harry's ass on multiple occasions from getting charged at by aggressive bulls or pissed off heifers or donkeys.

About how Rover slept in the sun and slept in Harry's bed every night and slept in haystacks in the barn with Harry and slept, and God Louis is fucking tired.  He closes his eyes to listen to Harry discuss in depth Rover's bond with each of the farm animals.  Somewhere between the story of Rover and a cow named Carly and the one about Rover and the donkey named Douglas is when Louis loses track and slips into a peaceful sleep and dreams about a curly haired kid and his cowdog.

  ~~~

**/Sneak Peek for Next Update/**

" _Where_ are we supposed to do it then?  We need a lived-in, high scale penthouse that you'll look comfortable in.  Not some fakely decorated show home where you'll stick out like a sore thumb."  Desmond pulls the paper back to him and scribbles something out.

"What about your house?"  Harry suggests.

"Out of the question."  Desmond clips.

Okay then.

Harry crosses his legs. 

Then he breaks into an enormous grin.

"I have a place."  He chews on the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from splitting his face in two.

~~~


	26. Chapter 26

 

A/N: I'm in Tijuana and lost track of the days xD Sorry guys!

-Dannie

~~~

L

Louis wakes up feeling better rested than he has in ages. He confusedly wonders why the hell that is until he looks at his phone.

And there it is in his Skype history, the two hour and 30-minute conversation from last night along with a message from Harry.

**You look like an angel when you sleep xx**

Louis falls back onto his pillow and tries not to have a heart attack.

~~~

H

Harry is on top of the world as he rinses off in the bathroom on Floor 34 of Roots Inc. His work out was extra gratifying, breakfast tasted extra delicious, and running the stairs was extra invigorating. He's extra pleased that he helped Louis fall asleep last night.

It's an extra kind of day and Harry hopes everyone else shares the same feeling.

He's learning the names of people too. On floor one, he recognizes all the receptionists and takes the long way around the lobby to say hello to all of them.

He puts himself together in his Louis Vuitton suit, smiling like a nut the whole time because he's kind of _wearing_ Louis. He confidently pairs the black suit with a sheer golden shirt underneath and puts on a new pair of golden Chelseas he'd ordered on the internet the other day from a site previously approved by Cecelia.

He didn't run the specific pair of boots by her, but it was on the website, so Harry deems it justifiable.

He grins at his cleverness and at Louis Vuitton and _Louis_.

He struts out of the restroom like he's practiced with Lenny a thousand times and nearly runs into Niall.

"I'll tell you again, I don't _think_ -" Niall exclaims an emphasis on the word as Harry runs into him, but otherwise doesn't make any kind of move to apologize or pause his conversation with Harry, "it's a good idea simply because of everything previously outlined in the email."

"Morning Niall." Harry smiles at his back and decides that one day, he will break through to Niall and find the human side of him.

He ventures to the front desk where Liam is already perched and typing away furiously at his computer.

"Morning Liam!" Harry booms from behind him.

Liam shrieks and falls out of his chair. Harry laughs at his expense.

"Morning Harry- shit you scared me. Gave me a heart attack." Liam helps himself into his chair again. "By the way, your schedule for today has been completely rearranged. Please talk to Mr. Styles as soon as possible."

Harry grins because even though Liam is falling out of chairs, he still seems significantly more put together today. Harry likes to think he maybe had a hand in boosting Liam's confidence.

"Thanks Li!" Harry calls as he turns back around to go into his father's office.

His father is on a call with someone and Harry walks right up to the big ugly leather couch to sit down. "Morning! Li said you needed to see me?"

"Uh-huh. Goodbye." Desmond hangs up the phone. "You are booked back to back with interviews and press releases all day. You'll be doing two photoshoots as well."

Harry's happy attitude quickly plummets. "I don't want to do another photoshoot." He says firmly.

" _Not_... like the last one." Desmond rubs at his temples. "Caused me more trouble than it was fucking worth." He mutters to himself.

Harry isn't really fazed by swearing. Except for as many times as he's heard his father yell, he's never actually heard him cuss. And it only reinforces the suspicion Harry has that something else has been going on the last couple days that Niall and his father have been dealing with that involves Harry that he doesn't get to know about.

His other suspicion tells him that the 'something else' is likely whatever Louis set in action as a consequence to the truck-washing, woman-objectifying, smear articles that were written several days ago. The suspicion tells him it was his father who set it up because he doesn't like who Harry is. Doesn't like his current image of being happy and single.

And buried underneath all of that is still the fear that his father might find out he's gay.

So Harry doesn't ever bring it up. Doesn't want to because it's better for both him and his father to let sleeping dogs lie. The photoshoot reinforced that he is straight to his father, and reinforced that he is gay to himself. He also may have recently started treading the waters of porn because like, he's gay now, and can do that. And it helps when he misses Louis and he gets to learn more about BDSM along with it. So it served everyone well in the end.

So Harry clasps his hands in his lap instead. "What kind of photoshoot will it be then?"

"Just your standard run-of-the-mill, white backdrop shoot. We need professional photos of you. You're scheduled for three different studios because we want a local city setting as well as an in-home one." Desmond pushes a piece of paper to Harry.

The guilty look must emulate from Harry's face, because Desmond says something about it. "Will that be a problem?"

"I may have... um... done some... renovations..." Harry scratches at his nose. He doesn't need to be told that normal people would look at his house like it's a dump. He saw the way Louis looked at it. He _knows_ his father would disapprove.

"What exactly did you do?" Desmond asks cautiously.

"Um. I think it would be safer to do it somewhere else." Harry avoids the topic like Pablo taught him.

" _Where_ are we supposed to do it then? We need a lived-in, high scale penthouse that you'll look comfortable in. Not some fakely decorated show home where you'll stick out like a sore thumb." Desmond pulls the paper back to him and scribbles something out.

"What about your house?" Harry suggests.

"Out of the question." Desmond clips.

Okay then.

Harry crosses his legs.

Then he breaks into an enormous grin.

"I have a place." He chews on the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from splitting his face in two.

Desmond instantly pulls his keyboard towards him. "What's the address then? It's your first shoot, so the crew needs to head over ASAP."

Harry rattles off the address perfectly by memory.

"And do you have access to the home or is the tenant home?" Desmond asks.

"I have a key. It's unoccupied." Harry smiles at his gold boots as he bounces them up and down. "And I want to wear this outfit."

Desmond clicks one last thing then looks Harry up and down. "You look ridiculous."

Harry shrugs. "Just following Cecelia's guidelines."

"You're wearing golden boots." Desmond states.

"They're Louis Vuitton." Harry says smugly. "So is the suit."

"Wardrobe is being taken care of for all of them." Desmond grits out.

If there's anything Harry has learned, it's just how much power he has. He's decided he's basically untouchable. All mistakes are brushed under the rug and written off as beginner's error. All genius ideas lead people to sing him praises. Anything Harry wants, he can get if he talks to the right people. Anything Harry doesn't want, the appropriate people get punished for it because he has Louis.

"I think I'll wear this outfit for the in-home one. I'll change for the city one though. Don't want my new shoes getting muddy." Harry pretends like he's Louis when he says it and feels infinitely more powerful.

Desmond looks like he might blow a gasket and his desk phone rings. He pushes the speaker button to answer. "Styles." He nearly yells.

"Mr. Styles, Mr. Styles Junior's driver is here." Lisa from the front lobby says.

"He'll be right down." Desmond ends the call and faces Harry again. "Pick up your cue cards from Pablo on the way."

Harry stands up and brushes himself off. "Don't need them. I've done a hundred mock interviews now. Have Liam email me my itinerary for the rest of the day please."

Harry makes sure his father heard him before he turns to leave the room. He wants to ride a fucking bull, he is so lit.

He nearly skips to the elevator and pulls out his phone to message Louis.

**May I pretty please use your house for a couple hours Mr. Tomlinson? xx**

He pockets his phone, not worried that Louis won't message him back. He knows Louis will the second he is able to. Louis never leaves him hanging if he asks a direct question.

He grabs his overcoat from Lisa on the way out and gets into the limo. When they pull into the parking garage, Harry's phone vibrates with a response from Louis.

**Course baby. Help yourself.**

Harry leans his head back on the headrest to grin at the sky because his life is pretty damn awesome. Louis is pretty damn awesome.

"Mr. Styles." The driver opens the door for him to exit, as they've parked already, apparently.

Harry gracefully gets out of the limo to see a camera crew standing around. His heart briefly falters because he expects to see Drew and he really didn't enjoy working with him. But to Harry's delight, Drew is not in sight.

Harry leads them all up to Louis' penthouse, opening the door with the key he keeps on him at all times. He helps himself to the fridge to find it full of iced teas. Taken by surprise and complete flattery, Harry decides he needs to do something extra good for Louis to make him feel extra special.

He drinks it while the crew gets set up and notices everyone wearing their shoes one Louis' carpet. He chews on his lip, knowing Louis hates that. He taps his fingers against the wet glass of his bottle and decides to get the carpets cleaned for later today. That's a thing, right? They have a professional cleaner come to their office once a month. He's sure he can pay them extra to come do Louis' living room.

The interview couldn't have gone better- Harry unabashedly smiling like he owns all the secrets to the world, and confidence radiating from him as if Louis were right there next to him.

The rest of the day flies by in interview after interview and photoshoot after photoshoot. He kind of secretly loves all the attention.

He doesn't hear from Louis much, but it's okay. He still gets a picture of his lunch and dinner, feeling warm on the inside because Louis does that just for him. Harry's knows the hotel must have normal foods like bagels and oatmeal, but Louis still chooses to find a different dish each meal to send to Harry.

He's on top of the world the rest of the day, and that night, Harry tells Louis stories of living on the farm until he falls asleep in front of Harry again.

~~~

It's a couple days later when Harry receives a call from Louis earlier in the evening than normal. He's just driving home from work, so he turns his country music down and sticks his earphones in before answering the call.

"Holaaa!" Harry chimes in because Pablo taught him that's how to say 'hello' in Spanish.

"Como te vai Haz?" Louis chuckles.

"You speak Spanish?!" Harry asks, completely fascinated.

"Fuck no. I pay translators for that. I just get asked that 20 times a day, so it's the one phrase I remember." Louis says lightly. "Also, that was Portuguese babe."

"But you're in Brazil?" Last Harry checked (which was five days ago just to make sure), Brazil was in South America and everyone speaks Spanish south of Texas.

"I am. And they speak Portuguese here." Louis informs. "It's weird."

"Huh." Harry plays with his bottom lip as he's stuck in traffic. "So what's up?"

He doesn't want to explicitly point out that Louis is calling him earlier than normal in case it would make him feel insecure. He already was horrified to see Louis feel badly about himself the other night. Harry has to equally take care of Louis how Louis takes care of him, and that means Harry needs to be just as strong and sensitive towards him.

"Well... I need your opinion on something." Louis says with an edge of suspense.

"Yeah?" Harry is intrigued now. "With what?"

"I was in meetings with the creative design team all day because we need to come up with some new emojis for the software update rolling out next year. They gave me booklets full of mock ups, but they all felt very manufactured. So I wanted your fresh perspective on it." Louis says like he might be excited to hear Harry's opinions.

Harry is careful to rein in his smile at the thought. "First off, you need an iced tea emoji."

"Done." Louis says instantly.

"And up the game with the farming emojis. Cows, horses, chickens, donkeys, llamas maybe." Harry looks off into the distance. "And definitely a bale of hay. Maybe a lasso? And a gun if you want something more vintage."

Louis chuckles. "We already have a gun and chicken emoji."

"But what about the llamas Louis? The llamas are left behind!" Harry exclaims to his empty truck.

Louis outright laughs at that, looking years younger. "Oh my God, fine. I'll make a damn llama emoji for you."

"And a cow. A dairy one." Harry looks seriously into the screen.

Louis rolls his eyes. "Your demands are quite lofty Haz."

"You asked for my opinions." Harry defends. "Just trying to please you."

"You're doing excellent. Always do." Louis looks properly satisfied at that.

"Oh! And there should be dog emoji if you don't have one already. Except, it should be a German Shepard!" Harry fonds. "I love German Shepherds."

"Was Rover a German Shepard? I know he was a cow dog... but I don't know if that's actually, you know, a breed of dog." Louis says carefully.

"Oh." Harry nods, because he could see how a city guy like Louis could misunderstand that. "No, a cow dog is its own breed. But yes, he was part German and Australian Shephard, part Labrador, part Border Collie."

"So..." Louis' eye twitches. "A mutt then?"

"No. It's a cow dog." Harry reiterates. "A mutt is just a bunch of different dogs mixed together."

Louis opens his mouth then closes it.

"If you mixed a Weiner dog and a Border Collie, it wouldn't make a cow dog. It would make it a mutt. If you mixed a Collie with a Corgi though, then you'd have yourself a cow dog." Harry tries to further explain.

Louis nods slowly. "So a German Shephard emoji. What about a Dachshund one too?"

Harry shrugs. "I've never actually known anybody with a Dachshund. Do people actually get those?"

"Yeah." Louis writes away on his paper. "One of my friends had one once. I thought the little fellow was cute."

Harry doesn't say anything because he doesn't really like Louis calling anything cute except for him. Also, Weiner dogs are probably a dog Harry will never own.

Louis doesn't seem to notice the small silence though. "We need a couple in the athletic category too."

"Horseback riding is a sport!" Harry says excitedly.

Louis huffs and makes a show of writing it down. "They're going to know something is up when I walk into the board room tomorrow with a plethora of farm themed emojis."

"Also, four-wheeling is kind of athletic- or at least outdoorsy." Harry wonders what the parameters are around it. He figures throwing out ideas can never hurt.

"That's brilliant actually." Louis furrows his brows at the paper in front of him.

"There's also roping." Harry pushes.

"Harry please." Louis says like he can't decide if he's upset or totally endeared.

Harry bites back an apology and decides to just stick to being serious. He doesn't want to be a hindrance to Louis' work. "Okay, well there's also swimming and running and all the sports that end in 'ball' and- _skeeting_! Skeet shooting! We had a really good team at my high school."

"What the fuck is skeet shooting?" Louis looks at Harry like he's crazy. "I assume it's not a spin-off of Lil' John?"

Harry shakes his head. "Like shooting clay pigeons."

Louis doesn't look any more enlightened.

"You know in the British films when there's a rich old person yelling at some young attractive kid to 'pull!' and then they shoot their shotgun at the flying orange thing?" Harry tries to explain.

"Ooooohhhh." Louis says as it dawns on him. "I've never heard it called that before."

Harry wants to comment something about being the same level of posh as Louis now, but then remembers he's keeping it serious. "Okay. So skeet shooting is a sport. Also, there's pole vaulting and ice skating and gymnastics-"

"Jesus, did you recently re-watch the Olympics?" Louis makes fun of him, but is scribbling down notes anyway.

Harry smiles to himself and tries to think of more sports or activities that are played professionally or for fun. He looks around him for inspiration and that's when he sees the flyer stapled on the telephone pole to his right.

"Louis." Harry says seriously.

Louis' attention immediately shifts to Harry. "Yes baby?"

Harry lowers his voice. "You should do a paddle..." Louis looks at him like he's crazy. "As in, a ping pong paddle... But like... also a paddle..."

Louis now looks at him like he may have revealed 20 more Wonders of the World. "Have I ever told you how perfect you are?"

Harry blushes and watches, pleased, as Louis writes that down.

"Okay..." Louis takes his bottom lip between his teeth. "This is great. Now I need... flag emojis. What countries should I add?" Louis looks up to Harry.

If Harry were to open his mouth right now, all that would come out is a long, drawn out 'ummmmmmmm', so he decides against doing that. "America?" He tries.

Louis starts writing until, it appears, he realizes what he's writing, and then he sets his pen down to look at Harry, deciding whether or not he is to take him seriously.

"Brazil?" Harry tries again.

"I'll just make Zayn do that section." Louis brushes off and pulls another paper out.

"Wait!" Harry wants- needs- to be somewhat helpful. "Iceland."

Louis lifts an eyebrow. "Why Iceland?"

"I think it looks cool there. You know, the northern lights and waterfalls and hiking. And it looks like it's not very populated." Harry says, remembering the time he did his school project on Iceland in middle school.

"Okay." Louis writes it down on the paper. "We'll do Iceland. Any other miscellaneous emojis you want added?"

"I love you." Harry says.

"What?" Louis' head snaps up to the camera.

Harry blushes. "You know, an 'I love you' emoji? So that it's not just choosing between a heart and boring Times New Roman font. Something handwritten. A special emoji."

Louis taps the pen against chin. "I like that actually. Maybe a blend of Lucida Handwriting and Lucida Calligraphy. Something soft."

"You should write it." Harry suggests.

"I have terrible penmanship." Louis dismisses.

"It would be really personal though. They could write a whole press release about it." Harry says, feeling like his business mindset is on point today.

Louis taps the pen against his chin quicker. "I'll discuss it with the board."

Harry pulls into the parking garage and bites the inside of his cheek. He hopes he was helpful. Hopes Louis actually found his opinions of worth. Hopes he didn't just share annoying or irrelevant information.

"Baby I have to go. Need to send this off to the design team so they can have time to do mock ups before our meeting tomorrow." Louis pulls a planner from off screen.

"Do you... do you want me to call you later tonight?" Harry offers, wanting to know if Louis wants Harry to lull him to sleep again.

Louis' index finger goes to his mouth and between his lips for a half second before it's gone again. Harry wonders why he did that.

"I'll let you know." Louis says, voice going more professional. "Have a good evening."

"You too." Harry bites the inside of his cheek. He definitely said the wrong thing. He fucked up. He needs to make this right.

Louis hangs up and the screen goes black.

Harry taps his fingers on the steering wheel before pulling the key out of his pocket and heading up to Louis' penthouse.

~~~

**/Sneak Peek for Next Update/**

Louis shakes off the scene and unlocks his phone.

It's a picture.

It's a picture of Harry holding a piece of paper. 

It's the contract.

~~~


	27. Chapter 27

 

L

The amount of time Louis spends worrying about Harry is disconcerting.

He doesn't _obsess_ , per say, but it's certainly a frequently recurring thing. So much so that he is texting Niall more than he's texting Harry to make sure Desmond isn't pulling any moves that will put Harry in uncomfortable situations or put him down. Niall assures him about 50 times a day that Harry is doing fine and happier and more confident than normal.

Louis is pleased with the information, but he can't very well put all his trust in it, because at the end of the day, something could go wrong in seconds and Louis would still be 13 hours away. 13 hours isn't something he can control or fix. It's something that's out of his hands. And the more his attachment to Harry grows, the stronger the urge to protect him and be there for him grows.

So when it's finally the weekend, Louis needs a fucking break because it's been 90 hours of work this week and Harry watching him fall asleep every night and Louis still isn't quite comfortable enough to accept that information and be okay with it.

Though he knows Harry is doing well by himself and starting to really excel at the things he's being taught, Louis finds himself feeling responsible for his leaps of progress. This should be positivity and greatness all around- except for it makes Louis feel stagnant.

In the last three months, Louis has seen Harry grow passed a plethora of his insecurities. Seen him go from saying nearly two words to talking for over two hours. Seen him go from staggering over himself and stumbling over welcome speeches to confidently delivering interviews. Seen him go from dressing like a heathen to dressing sharper than Brad Pitt. Seen him go from severe homophobia to being comfortable in his own skin.

Louis is still Louis. Louis still struggles to sleep at night. He still struggles with his body image. He still struggles with the thoughts that he's a less than competent Dom for someone like Harry.

He knows, objectively, that he is excelling with Metal Core. His company has never done better and that's all Louis has ever pushed himself for. He's nearly neck and neck with Roots and it won't be long until he surpasses them.

The business trip is going fantastic and the board was absolutely thrilled about his and Harry's new emoji ideas. Louis was thrilled to share that experience with Harry.

But now that it's his last weekend in Brazil, and it doesn't make logical sense that he's about at his ends wit. He's fucking stressed due to the lack of control; and when he stresses, he eats. It's the only thing he could control when he stressed over his weight as a teen. It's the one thing he knows he can control now.

So he's sitting with Zayn and his fantastic wife Gigi and he's never felt so off his game. He doesn't realize it shows through until Gigi gets up to go to the bathroom and Zayn addresses him.

"Louis, that's your fourth plate of food. Are you sure you're alright tonight?" Zayn asks softly.

And fuck buffets. Buffets scare the hell out of Louis because _shit_ , look at that. His fourth plate of food is empty and he still needs to eat more.

"I'm fucking _fine_!" Louis snaps and snatches his plate to go to the French section and grab a handful of baguettes and cheeses and ham and escargot and squab and _fuck_ , he needs to stop.

He goes back to the table, slamming his overflowing plate onto it again and starts shoveling food into his mouth to fill the emptiness of his personal accomplishments.

Zayn watches him silently and Gigi joins them again.

"Thank you again for allowing me to join you both on your trip." Gigi says politely.

"Thank America. They're the ones paying for it." Louis stabs a snail to stick it in his mouth.

Gigi laughs at that.

"How are your shows going?" Louis asks to distract from the baguette that he inhaled.

"Quite well. We've been learning new routines each week to keep us in shape mentally and physically while practicing our show set every day. Opening night is about a month away." Gigi takes a sip of her Mimosa.

"That's fantastic. I had heard that they were opening a show in New York. So will you be there mostly? Or do you strictly tour with the crew?" Louis might be pissed at everything in the world, but he still has enough self-control to be civil to guests.

He stabs a wedge of cheese that realistically could have been cut in half and considered a hearty portion. But he shoves the whole thing in his mouth and doesn't bother chewing much before swallowing.

Gigi silently raises her eyebrows at Louis and brings a manicured black-painted fingernail to her lip before responding. "Strictly tour."

Louis is about to stab the ham into a ball that can be shoved in his mouth all at the same time when his phone lights up with a message from Harry. He drops his fork and picks up his phone. "Sorry. Excuse me. It's my- sub." He says for lack of a better word.

"It's your party." Gigi lifts her beverage in a cheers then takes a drink. "Finish this off for me babe." She hands it to Zayn.

Zayn instantly complies and drinks the remaining alcohol.

Louis shakes off the scene and unlocks his phone.

It's a picture.

It's a picture of Harry holding a piece of paper.

It's the contract.

It's signed.

Harry signed the contract.

Louis' signature is already at the bottom.

Harry signed the contract.

It's dated for today.

Harry is his sub.

Louis is his Dom.

Harry is his sub now.

Louis is a fucking terrible Dom and the stress and anxiety that's been building over the last three weeks washes over him like a tidal wave because he's unprepared for this and _Harry_ is unprepared for this and Louis _isn't there_ and-

"Excuse me-" Louis gets up from the table without waiting for any formality back from them and sprints to the bathroom.

He locks himself in a stall and drops to his knees, barely getting the lid of the toilet seat open before he vomits his five dinners. He pries the top buttons of his shirt open and shoves his tie around his back to move it out of the way. It keeps coming up until he's sweating and his quiff has been significantly defeated.

When it finally gets to a stopping point, Louis collapses backward to rest against the metal stall door. He pulls his suit jacket off and rolls up his cuff links, ignoring the enormous sweat stains under his armpits now.

He messages Harry back.

**You think you can just sign that whenever the fuck you want? You think it was just okay to sign it without discussing the terms first? It's been nearly three months and you think everything is the same as when we fucking started this?! Next time think before you act recklessly. Go punish yourself by putting on a cock ring and edging yourself for an hour. No orgasming, lest you want to prove to me just how selfish and thoughtless you are. You are to record yourself the whole time and I'll be watching it when I get back to make sure you don't fuck up your punishment.**

His fingers are shaking uncontrollably by the time he hits send and another wave of nausea hits him as he throws himself around the toilet bowl again.

He gasps and chokes as the food his over-full stomach was trying to digest comes up, burning everything in its wake. Louis wraps his hands around his cramping stomach. Sweat drips from his forehead, making his eyes blurry and salty.

God, he's a fucking horrible Dom. In his eight years as one, this has never happened. Louis is having a complete breakdown on his business trip to Brazil and he's falling apart at the seams. For what? Nothing. Fucking nothing. For doing nothing with his life. For being nothing and accomplishing equivalent to nothing. For Harry being twice the man Louis will ever be and Louis will just continue to fail and underachieve and not deserve the things Harry does.

Eight years and Louis is undeserving of everything he's earned.

He spits the remains of what's in his mouth into the toilet and flushes again. He doesn't trust that it won't hit him again.

His phone vibrates with Harry's response.

**I'm so so sorry?!??? I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I'll do it but im so sorry**

Then a picture attached of Harry's signature on the contract scribbled out.

Louis feels queasy in his heart and brain and he didn't even think that was possible. But then he's coughing and reaching for the toilet again a moment later to puke up the remains of the food he overfilled himself with.

He fucking _hates_ throwing up and can smell himself and thinks he will probably die in a public restroom in Brazil and really, how fitting. Louis is nothing but shit and deserves to die next to it.

His whole body convulses and he's just dry heaving now, wishing he could puke up his will to live with it because he just fucking punished Harry for signing the fucking contract. What the fuck is wrong with him? He can never come back from this. He royally fucked Harry over- who is completely undeserving of the punishment Louis just set in place. He is one giant fuck up like his parents.

The bathroom door opens and Louis is still coughing and spluttering into the toilet, grasping desperately at the rim of the toilet to keep himself from collapsing.

"Louis!" Zayn has the stall door pried open in moments and is kneeling by his side. "God- Louis!"

"Get the fuck out!" Louis lets his head fall forward so it's inches away from the toilet water.

"Louis what the hell is going on?" Zayn rushes out. "Can I touch you?"

"No! Get. The _fuck_. Out!" Louis coughs up some more bile and spits it into the toilet.

"I'm not leaving. I'm here Louis. It's okay. I'm here for you. I'm not leaving." Zayn says soothingly.

"God-" Louis coughs. "Fuck."

"It's okay. Just let it out. It's gone now." Zayn says reassuringly.

Louis tries blinking his eyes open only to find that they're coated over with sweat and a piece of hair is poking him.

"I'm going to help you out of your shirt so you don't get chilled, okay?" Zayn carefully pulls at the hem of Louis' shirt to untuck it the rest of the way. "I won't touch you. Just gonna help you get this off for a minute."

Louis just fucking lets him because he feels like he is draining Niagara Falls from every pore on his body and Brazil is so fucking _humid_ and his shirt is fucking coated in his sweat and he can't fucking breathe in it.

When it's off, Louis feels a little less weighed down and falls against the side of the metal stall again.

"Do you still feel nauseous?" Zayn asks in a confident voice that makes Louis feel okay to be a little broken.

"No. It's gone." Louis lets his head fall back and revels in his hot back sticking with sweat to the cold steel and wraps his arms around his stomach that is still twitching.

"What happened?" Zayn asks.

"Harry signed the contract." God, Louis feels queasy again. "I'm a fucking terrible Dom. And then I made him punish himself for it."

"You'll fix it. It's okay." Zayn says surely. "What did you make Harry do?"

"I'm making him edge himself for an hour." Louis' stomach churns again.

"Are you going to make him see it through?" Zayn asks gently.

"Well I can't very well go back on my damn word now can I?" Louis yells. "The fuck am I supposed to be taken seriously if I contradict myself every fucking time?"

"You're a human Louis. We all fuck up. If you want him to stop, don't let your ego get in the way. Man the fuck up and tell him you overreacted. Tell him to sit alone for a half hour while you compose yourself well enough to get on the phone with him." Zayn says.

Louis squeezes at his roots with one hand and into his stomach with the other. He knows all of this information clinically. Knows how to deescalate a bad scene where one or both parties have fucked up. But he can't fucking think straight for the life of him.

"Fuck." Louis limply pulls out his phone to message Harry.

**I want you to stop now and sit alone for 30 minutes to cool down. I'll call you when your isolation is up.**

"Fuck." Louis shuts his phone and bangs his head hard against the stall.

"Hey, stop it. You're emotional right now. Don't hurt yourself and don't say anything to Harry for the next half hour until you've calmed down." Zayn says, still on his knees next to Louis.

"Why the fuck did I do that? What was I thinking? What the fuck is wrong with me?" Louis doesn't even know to which thing he's referring. Probably everything in his life.

"I'm going to hug you now, okay?" Zayn leans forward when Louis makes no move to yell at him again.

He pulls Louis into his chest and hold him firmly. "You're fine Louis. We all make massive mistakes. You've been stressed and had an anxiety attack and panicked. There's nothing wrong with you. You and Harry can fix and overcome this together. I know you will."

Louis lets his head lie limply on Zayn's shoulder and just lets himself be held for a minute.

"What's your color?" Zayn asks softly.

"Yellow." Louis whispers.

"Do you want me to leave?" Zayn asks carefully.

"No." Louis says shamelessly.

Zayn rubs up and down Louis' back until his skin is the same temperature as the air around them and no longer dripping with sweat.

Louis' airways finally feel like they're clearing up and his nose has run dry. He can feel the sweat crust on his face and smells the nice scent of Zayn's cologne.

"Green." Louis breathes out.

Zayn gently releases him. "I'll get some wet paper towels for you, okay? I'll be right back."

Louis nods and takes a few deep breaths in. He's able to exhale smoothly and rubs at his eyes that still sting from all the salt. Zayn is by his side in another minute with some damp paper towels.

Louis uses them to wipe off his face and chest and then flushes them down the toilet. Zayn holds out a mint for him. Louis gratefully takes it.

"Do you still need me here?" Zayn double checks.

Louis shakes his head. "I'm good. Thank you."

"I'll give you some time alone at the hotel. Call or text me if you need anything." Zayn says and Louis knows they aren't just empty words.

"Thank you." Louis says politely and Zayn leaves him.

Louis stares straight in front of him.

Alright.

That happened.

He gets up, pulls his shirt on, ignoring the still slightly damp material. He checks his phone and dismisses the notification from Harry that says a simple 'Okay, I'm sorry.'

He has 10 minutes until he calls Harry. He sets an alarm for it so that he's not checking his phone every 30 seconds. Pocketing it again, he leaves the restaurant and hails a cab.

He tells the driver the address and watches the city pass him by. His brain is mostly clear and he just lets the images seep in. He doesn't stress himself out. His instincts will know what to say and when to say it. He needs to focus on 'calm' right now.

The driver lets him know that they're around the corner and when they pull up to the hotel, Louis tips him and paces through the lobby, patiently staring at the elevator as it closes and the levels rise.

He needs to make sure Harry is okay, he needs to apologize, and he needs to right his wrong.

By the time he slides his key card in and the door locks behind him, his alarm goes off and he video calls Harry.

Harry answers, seconds later with a pink face and tear tracks on his face, and blurts passed any kind of greeting. "I'm so sorry!"

Louis closes his eyes for a second before opening them again. "Baby, you're good. You don't need to be sorry anymore. It's over, okay? It's done now."

Harry nods. "I'm sorry."

"I know baby. What's your color?" Louis asks calmly.

"I think green? I don't know..." Harry looks down at his lap.

So yellow. He's a yellow. He's not lying, he just doesn't know.

"If you're not 100%, it's okay to say yellow. I would be surprised if you weren't." Louis says softly.

"Yellow then." Harry says even softer.

"Okay. Do you want to talk about it right now, or in a minute?" Louis offers the two options in case Harry isn't willing to talk right now.

"I'm just confused." Harry brings a hand up to cover his face. "I'm confused because all I try and do is please you and I feel like I was doing so well and we were good and then I don't understand how I fucked up because I was trying to do something good for you because I thought you wanted me to sign the contract and I was just so happy all week and I thought you were too and I thought this would make you happy because it also made me happy and- and-" Harry loses it and breaks into full on sobs.

Louis sighs, frustrated with himself more than anything. "Harry. I overreacted. What happened tonight was completely my fault. I didn't mean to take it out on you, but I did anyway and I'm so sorry. What was going on with me was unrelated to your actions but I made it about me anyway. I'm so sorry."

"I just don't understand!" Harry wails, not even looking at the camera. "What did I do?"

"Baby, you didn't do anything, I swear. You make me happy- so happy-" Louis pinches the bridge of his nose. _God_ , he fucked this up.

"You said you wanted us to be honest though, so did you not mean what you said?" Harry sniffles.

"No I didn't-" Louis groans, "it was purely emotional. I should have bitten my tongue and kept my shit to myself. I didn't mean it; I was just lashing out."

"Well what happened then? What made you emotional?" Harry grabs a wad of tissues from the side of the couch and- oh shit- how did Louis not notice that Harry was sitting on his living room couch?

"Just personal things." Louis strains, knowing it's the wrong answer, but saying it anyway. He doesn't want to seem more frazzled than he already has. He's a Dominant and he needs to start acting like one again.

"What personal things? I thought you wanted to be honest?" Harry's voice is still wobbly.

"Haz-" Louis doesn't even know what to say.

He's never had to deal with these issues in front of his subs because they've never _been_ an issue in front of his subs. He's always had the contract to outline their relationships; and the casual part of dating was his time to connect with his sub and make them feel special and talk about _their_ problems and hopes and dreams and aspirations.

With Harry, everything has been left and right and somewhere in the middle while also being thrown into the outfield at the same time. Louis has already been in dozens of situations with Harry that he never dreamt of happening with his previous subs.

So him dealing with his personal problems outside of his metal music and burning paper and Broadway musicals and _in front of_ his sub is just a lot to handle.

"Is it work? Is work going badly? Did they not like our emojis?" Harry asks pitifully.

Louis lets out a noise that is so awful close to a dry sob that it concerns him. It's more something like a laugh too, but he claps his hand over his mouth anyway. "No baby, they loved our emojis. Work is better than it's ever been."

Harry looks up into Louis' eyes finally. "Then what-"

"Feederism. You know how that's one of my reds?" Louis bites the bullet.

Harry goes silent and nods his head.

"I binge eat. And purge." Louis spits the words out. "When I'm stressed and anxious. I used to as a young teen to help me lose weight but I still do it occasionally. Rarely. I haven't for years but I did tonight."

Louis is sweating again. Nobody knows this except Niall. He's never said this out loud to anyone in his life. The only reason Niall knows is because he's been there for several of the incidents.

Harry's tears are gone and a very serious face replaces it. When he speaks, it's with a concern and softness that Louis can feel from thousands of miles away. "Why? What got you so stressed today?"

Really, fuck it all because he can't sit here and act like a Dom while admitting to feeling like a shitty one, so he bites relentlessly at his nails. It's just an all over fail for him tonight.

"I'm so-" Louis grins like an idiot because he did not expect to have this be his answer, "Haz, I'm so, _so_ proud of you. You don't even understand the things you've overcome and grown in since I've met you. It just... made me reflect and I feel like you're becoming this extraordinary person and I feel very much stuck in my rut because I keep fucking up as a Dom and I fuck up as a person and I feel inadequate."

"Lou- you... you're not inadequate." Harry says reverently. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me."

The silence settles in and Louis pulls his finger from his mouth to stop the assault on his nail.

"You said we're equals." Harry says carefully. "We equally can take care of each other. You shouldn't put all the pressure you do on yourself. We're learning this kind of together, right?"

"We sure as hell shouldn't be. This is my eighth year as a Dominant. I'm making petty mistakes Harry. _Beginner's_ mistakes." Louis balls his hands together.

"You said it's been a while since you've had a proper sub, right?" Harry urges.

"That's _no_ excuse. All that tells me is I can't have the confidence to do this right if I keep fucking up because then I'll falsely get into something thinking I can handle it and not be able to." Louis has probably never been angrier with himself.

It's not the technique he's out of practice with. It's the mindset behind it all that could end up completely hurting Harry emotionally. Louis still doesn't know how to be an effective Dominant to Harry without being Daddy.

"I've farmed cows since I was old enough to walk. So... 22 years now." Harry starts in like he's about to tell a story. It catches Louis' attention and makes him tune in on his voice.

"I can birth a calf with my eyes closed and feet tied together. Rain or shine. Snowstorm or fog. And two years ago I was birthing a calf on a clear sunny day in May and it was in a position where it's elbow was bent. And when that happens, you're supposed to grab the leg that's farther back than the other to get it forward again, then pull the calf out." Harry looks down at his lap and pauses.

"I had birthed a thousand calves before and figured he'd be just fine if I pulled the him out. It was only a couple inches' difference anyway- but... I pulled the calf and his leg and shoulder broke." Harry bites on a knuckle.

"Because I was too fucking lazy to take an extra couple seconds to correct it. And I had to kill him because he wouldn't have been able to recover from it." He looks back up at Louis. "It doesn't matter how long you've done something. Mistakes still get made whether you mean to or not."

Louis wonders who the hell has been teaching Harry how to give motivational speeches and personalize them and just come off as so damn sincere. But then again, he thinks, Harry had the ability the whole time and it only took some confidence boosting to bring that out.

"I... I'm so sorry Harry." Louis slumps onto the couch.

"It's okay. I forgive you- I just don't want you to be so hard on yourself." Harry says.

Jesus, if Past Louis were to ever look at himself now, he would wonder what the hell had happened to him. He'd never have a sub talking to him like this. Not only would there never be the opportunity for this conversation to happen in the first place- but a sub giving him direction and advice is just- God. It's just Harry. He can't explain it any other way.

He wonders if it's because Harry's career is similar to his. Wonders if he lets things slide with Harry because of Harry's past. Wonders if it's because Louis is changing. Wonders if it's because he likes and trusts Harry more than anyone else.

It's just Harry. And he can't explain it in any other way.

"I'll... work on that." Louis nods. "Are you okay though? I've probably traumatized you."

Harry bites his lip and itches his nose. "Can I... can I take off the cock ring now?"

"Oh my God!" Louis is horrified. "You still have that on? I said it was over. Done. Your punishment is done. Take it off."

Harry looks properly relieved. He reaches down off camera and his face visibly shows the action of the cock ring coming off. He lets off a small moan with it.

"You- had it on this entire time?" Louis is about ready to rip off his shirt again because all it's done today is contribute to his body overheating.

Harry nods.

"You were hard the entire time?" Louis clarifies.

Harry nods again.

"Even while you were crying?" Louis lays down on the couch on his side because his sebaceous glands are just on hyper drive today.

"Yeah..." Harry says a little on the side of suggestive.

"I'm... sorry. That must have been painful." Louis pushes his cock's burning desire to grow to the back of his mind. "I'm sorry about the whole night really. Normally, if I make such a monumental mistake, I'll buy my sub something really nice or take them on a vacation. Do you want that?"

Harry shakes his head, looking down at his lap again.

"What do you want baby?" Louis will give him the damn world if he asks for it.

"I- I want..." Harry stutters, and then glistening eyes flick back up to meet him on screen. "I want to know why you didn't find me attractive when I was crying earlier."

Louis can feel his heart stop. Physically stop. Then start beating in his ears because he thinks- he _thinks_ he's thinking clear enough to understand where Harry wants this to go. It kind of makes no sense logically to Louis. But his cock disagrees with logic.

He goes the safe route. "Baby, you know I always find you attractive."

"But I thought-" Harry's voice strains, "I thought you liked-" he's cut off by a sniffle and a tear escapes his eye.

Louis is fucking confused because one, how the hell is Harry making himself cry? Two, is he playing, or is this a dire situation where Louis fucked up again? Three, what the hell is Louis supposed to do with this?

He clears his throat. "What can I do to make it better?"

"I just... want you to feel good. It will make me feel better." Harry says with a wobbly voice and another tear escapes his eye.

It's a bright, flashing, neon green in Louis' mind. Harry's objective is clear, and Louis realizes he was very much unprepared for Harry's sudden bout of forwardness and- willingness?

"Tell me why you're crying baby." Louis asks for multiple purposes and unzips his pants while he's at it.

"Because it- it hurts. It's so tight and I've been hard for s-so long." Harry says painfully.

"You didn't take it off?" Louis shuts his eyes for a moment, imagining and wishing he could fucking be there to see.

"No. I left it on because I wanted to please you." He says, voice raspy.

And what the hell? Louis is _video_ chatting with Harry. His eyes fly open instantly. "Show me your cock pretty baby."

The camera pans down and there it is. It's a dark purple and it's throbbing and a stark contrast to the white ring that sits snugly at his base and wraps around his balls.

"It hurts so much." Harry's thumb comes into contact with it and his entire cock jumps nearly three inches as Harry cries out.

"Why don't you rub it to ease some pain?" Louis suggests, knowing it will only make the pain 10 times worse.

"Yeah-" Harry says breathily as he takes his cock in his hand again and starts jerking himself roughly.

Louis can still hear him crying and sniffling through wet tears and small sounds of pain coming from his pretty mouth. "God-" he can't get his hand in around his cock fast enough. "How's it feeling? Better?" He eggs on.

Harry moans something pitiful. "Hurts so bad. Hurts worse- it _hurts_."

Louis bites his lip as he watches Harry pull at himself. Harry's cock strains and strains to build a release, but the ring isn't letting anything happen. The thick vein only pulses heavily under Harry's large hand.

"Look at me baby." Louis demands for the camera to show back on Harry's face. It does, and Harry's cheeks have pinked right up again as his crying has escalated. "Why are you doing this?"

"T-to make you feel good." Harry cries and leans deeper into Louis' sofa.

"And you think you can do that by hurting yourself and crying on my sofa while I'm on a different continent than you?" Louis says condescendingly to see if it will shake Harry's confidence.

It doesn't.

In fact, it only seems to increase it.

"Yeah. Missed you... and wanted you so bad that I come here and- and drink the tea in your fr-fridge." Harry cries.

He found the fucking hoard of tea that Louis bought just for Harry and has been drinking it in his house. He misses him. The thoughts swirl together and create more chemicals that pump through his veins.

"I just want to make you happy." Harry noses at his shoulder to wipe some of the tears away. The camera is shaking and Louis knows it's because he's still jerking himself off. "I just want to please you and make you happy."

"Is that so?" Louis strokes himself a little faster.

"Mmhmm." Harry hums as another tear streams down his cheek. "Always wanted to impress you. And I loved when you made fun of me when I failed to impress you. Was so embarrassing and I deserved it."

Louis loves that as much as Harry is _actually_ in pain, he can't just accept it as physical pain, and instead ties it back to his mental masochism. It's his coping method and the reason he's in the current situation with Louis in the first place. Louis would do well to remember that better.

"You were, weren't you? And now you're embarrassing yourself by crying in front of me and trying to make me feel better?" A quick, shameful nod of the head from Harry makes Louis keep going.

"So desperate to please me and impress me. You're doing so well- makes me want to watch you all day. I want to watch you sit completely helpless, trying to please me and not be able to. Wouldn't that be terrible?" Louis smirks as heat coils in his abdomen.

Harry clenches his eyes shut as his face goes red and a destitute moan comes from his mouth.

"That's so much worse isn't it baby? Can't even make yourself cry from physical pain. Have to hurt your mind to get the tears going, don't you?" Louis taunts.

Harry sobs loud and clear as he nods and Louis pumps himself faster and harder. It's like the entire day has been an exhausting build up to a much needed release. He lets little pants out as he keeps his eyes focused on Harry's body that's wracked with pain- shoulders trembling up and down with his sobs and face clenching with the pain from the cock ring.

"Can you be good for me now and take off your cock ring? I want you to feel good now." Louis says, knowing that yes, it will feel good. But it will also be like a firehose through a faucet and cause Harry a great deal of pain.

Harry nods and sniffles and then the camera stops shaking as his hand stops jerking himself off. Harry's face scrunches up and he bites his lip as his hand slowly works the ring off.

"Oh my _God_ \- hurts so- _so_ much." Harry gasps.

"I know it does- _jeez_ -" Louis's brain goes foggy and his abs start clenching and rebelling against his impending orgasm.

"It- _ah_ \- _please_." Harry cries. "I don't want to take it off!"

"Do it baby. Do it for me." Louis' breaths go shallower.

Harry's low whines suddenly turn into him bawling as white streaks paint Harry's upper torso. And that's _it_ for Louis. He lets out a groan of his own and his orgasm takes everything out of him. Every last fucking thing as he hears Harry writhing in pain on the other end of the line.

Louis wraps an arm around his abdomen as the last spurts of come dribble down his dick and doesn't even give a fuck about the shirt he's just ruined. It was doomed anyway.

His abs scream from the over-abuse today and he's coming down from his orgasm when he sees Harry still coming and crying.

"So good baby. You always do so perfect for me. God, you look good." Louis says in a scratchy voice.

The white streaks finally slow down and Louis wonders how long it's been since Harry's orgasmed because the camera certainly does not deceive the fact that his chest is _coated_ in come.

"What's your color baby?" Louis watches his boy through hooded eyes.

"Green." Harry whimpers. "It still hurts."

"You're okay. It's alright. It's time to go to sleep now, okay?" Louis reassures. "It'll be better in the morning. Won't hurt anymore, I promise."

"Promise?" Harry asks, grabbing another wad of tissues to wipe at his eyes.

"Promise. And I'll be right here for you, okay? I want you to message me right when you wake up. I'll be here for you." Louis says.

"Do you need me to tell you a story Lou?" Harry asks half-heartedly as he falls sideways onto Louis' couch.

"No baby. I'm exhausted. I'm going to go to sleep right after you do." Louis says.

Harry's eyes flutter shut. "Kay... goodnight."

"Goodnight." Louis' do the same and he falls asleep.

~~~

**/Sneak Peek for Next Update/**

They eat in a comfortable silence for a little while until Harry's phone rings.  He immediately snatches it, knowing it's the Skype ring tone and answers.  "Hello?"

"Are you still on a date with that Liam bastard?"  Louis has a very no-bullshit tone of voice on.

"I'm not on a-" And Harry shuts his trap before he exclaims it out loud and changes his response.  "I'm just having a... business lunch."

"And you're sharing your wardrobe with him?!"  Louis snaps.

~~~


	28. Chapter 28

~~~

H

Three more days until Louis comes home.

Harry can make it three more days. And today is almost through. So really, it's only like, two and a sixteenth days. One and a half nights, in fact.

He shamelessly spends time at Louis' apartment when he can't sleep or if it's been a long day at work. He and the couch have become well acquainted. He's made it through all the iced tea as of yesterday, so it's up to Harry to provide his own now.

He never eats there. Only goes there to lay on the couch and look at the ceiling. He only went into the scene room once to find the cock ring when Louis instructed him to. He went into the office once to find their contract that had been sitting in a manila folder in the first drawer to the left. Harry noticed there were also about two dozen other files with names of boys on them all behind Harry's file. He didn't look and he doesn't want to ask.

Harry hasn't searched the rest of the house though. It wouldn't feel right since Louis isn't there showing it to him or walking him through it. Harry would never violate Louis' privacy. He wouldn't ever do anything to compromise Louis' trust for him.

Calling Louis has been the highlight of his days. They haven't gone a night without talking. There were a few evenings where Harry didn't hear from Louis until one or two in the morning U.S. time, which he now knows is three hours behind Brazil. Those nights are the ones it sounded like Louis tried to go to sleep on his own but couldn't and finally broke down to call Harry.

Harry doesn't know why Louis has trouble sleeping. He thinks it might have to do with his company. That maybe Louis never shuts his brain off from business unless he's in a scene. He hopes he can help Louis be less focused on work while Harry tells him stories about growing up on his farm.

He does know by now that Louis keeps himself under tremendous amounts of pressure and stress. He thinks that's what's made him into a diamond, really, so it makes sense. But it's hard for Harry to watch because he's one more to enjoy the moment rather than stress for the future.

Planning is important, yes. But even in cow ranching where he was planning years in advance, there was never stress involved.

He sees it in their relationship too. It's become more apparent the small things that Louis does or says out of stress. The way his voice uncharacteristically goes strained and sharper and insensitive. The way he'll throw a demand out of the blue when other things in his life aren't under his control. Stress drives Louis, and though he tries hard to manage it, it manages to get the best of him from time to time.

The contract-signing incident was... frightening... more than anything.

He was frightened that he unintentionally had pissed Louis off. Frightened that Louis thought he was terrible and unlovable and stupid. The most terrifying part though, was when Harry discovered where everything was stemming from. The fact that Louis thinks so low of himself and stresses himself into binging absolutely breaks Harry's heart.

He wanted to do something- anything- to please Louis and make him happy. He owed- still owes- him so much. Since signing the contract was an obvious no-go (at least that night), Harry ran with an impression he had on the moment.

Thinking about Skype sex and instigating it was awkward if Harry thought about it too long. But all he had to do was remind himself of the motivation behind it, and it was easy as hell to let himself cry and stay in pain for Louis' pleasure. He trusts Louis to still be there for him anyway if he would have been rejected sexually at that moment.

That's the thing. Is. Harry's not scared to put himself out there anymore.

For as terrible as the distance has been- it's also helped them become creative and resourceful and adaptable with what they have going. It's solidified Harry's trust in Louis. He trusts that he can send simple texts throughout the day and that Louis will want to know what he has to say. He trusts that Louis wants him sexually and emotionally. He trusts that Louis cares about his silly farm stories.

He trusts that Louis trusts him too.

So, even though it's 11:59pm, Harry trusts that Louis will call him. And if Louis doesn't, Harry trusts that it's because Louis is emotionally well enough to fall asleep on his own and not because he doesn't want to talk to Harry.

Harry plays Farmville on his phone in the meantime. His bare skin has long ago warmed up the white leather couches and he pulls his and Rover's quilt higher up to cover his abs. He fluffs up his pillow that he brought from his house and pays for in game purchases because Desmond still hasn't said anything about what Harry spends or how he does it.

He's just about to purchase more Farm Bucks when his Skype app notifies him that Louis is calling. He smiles and accepts the call, making sure he has a good grip on his phone and won't drop it on his face.

Harry smiles as Louis comes into view. "Hey."

Louis looks like he couldn't be farther from sleep if he tried. His body is tense and his voice is stern. "You never finished your story last night. How am I supposed to sleep not knowing what happened to Rover?"

Harry bites his lip, feeling very much pleased with life. He picks up right where he left off when Louis fell asleep on the other end of the line. Last night's story was, sadly, about Rover's last few days before he died.

So tonight when he tells Louis about how Rover died in a coyote attack while trying to protect Mona and him, Louis looks very much somber by the time he talks about finding the perfect spot in the meadow to bury him.

Harry doesn't like seeing Louis so sad though, so he moves on to telling the story of when he birthed Carly.

Louis falls asleep with a now-familiar, faint smile on his face. Harry screenshots it, sets it as his background, and falls asleep with a burning heart and giant grin on his own face.

~~~

Harry is at work.

One and a half more days. One more night.

"You heading out for your run?" Liam asks as Harry's tying his bandana around his hair.

"Yep! Want to join me?" Harry tightens the knot then re-ties one of his shoelaces.

"Uh... Am I allowed to do that?" Liam asks, tentatively.

"...yeah?" Harry shrugs.

"Really?" Liam pushes.

"Do you like running?" Harry asks.

"Well yeah..." Liam looks down at his hands.

"Then yes really." Harry decides with a nod. "Do you have clothes?"

Liam shakes his head.

"Come on then." Harry waves for him to follow. "I think you'll fit into mine. I have an extra pair."

Liam struggles out of his desk and hurries to catch up behind Harry. Harry shows him into the bathroom and pulls an extra pair of spandex shorts, sneakers, and a tank top out.

"Won't we get cold in just this?" Liam looks from the garments up to Harry.

Harry just smiles a little. "We'll warm up. But I have a hoodie if you're worried."

"I trust you." Liam says with big doe eyes.

"I'll let you change then. I'll just wait down in the lobby." Harry leaves Liam to change on his own.

While Harry waits downstairs, he talks to all the lobby girls, making them laugh and giggle and dote on him. He knows that most of them have boyfriends or husbands, but they're friendly on the side of flirty all the same. And Harry. He's just friendly, but apparently small talk and compliments come off as flirting in this city.

It doesn't matter much to him though because the girls are smiling and he's smiling and they like him and they like his company and Harry likes happy employees. He wonders how often his father comes down to talk to them.

Liam comes out of the elevators a couple minutes later looking long and lean. It's quite different from Harry who looks broader and more muscular in the same outfit.

"Are you sure we're decent to go out like this?" Liam blushes as the girls check him out and whisper behind his back.

Harry shrugs. "I used to work on my farm in nothing but boxers all the time. I don't see why this is a problem."

Liam just nods stiffly and follows Harry out.

It's chilly- as it always is- for the first 10 minutes of the jog. Liam keeps up well though. Despite the fog escaping their mouths with each breath, they're warmed up before they're even a quarter of the way through Harry's usual route.

With his usual route has come a couple of bystanders each day. Harry mostly just smiles or waves to them and they don't make to disturb him, but they always have their cameras out. It makes him feel a bit like he's living in a zoo where he's the enclosed animal that people come to stare at.

He doesn't let it get to him though. People have always been a bit silly in Harry's opinion. People get their heads full of crazy ideas. At least animals always stay grounded and remember what's real.

So he just does as he did on his farm and minds his own business. He notices with great pleasure that Liam loosens up tremendously about halfway through and Harry thinks it's really good for Liam. Liam needs something as a stress reliever. Maybe he can be Harry's running buddy.

When they finally arrive back where they started, they both take a moment to stretch and catch their breath.

"What time is it?" Liam asks with sweat rolling down his face.

"12:30." Damn, they got done a lot quicker than when Harry goes solo. "Want to grab something to eat?"

"Do we have time for that?" Liam pulls out his own phone to look at the time.

"I'm the boss." Harry says cheekily. "So sure."

Liam nods with more confidence than he normally would. "Cool. Where at?"

Harry would let out a long and drawn out 'umm', but he knows that's useless and will only make him look stupid. He doesn't even know the first thing about restaurants in the area. He supposes he'll ask Liam. "Do you have a preference?"

"Not really." Liam shrugs.

Great. Harry thinks and tries to come up with a decision that will allow him to stay in a leadership position without coming off as ignorant.

"How about we walk down the street and see if anything looks good?" He thinks it's a good suggestion.

"Perfect." Liam waits for Harry to start walking.

So he does. And Liam follows directly behind him the whole time.

About a block down, they pass a kebab place and mutually decide it smells good. So they go in and order, then grab a table.

Harry is stirring his iced tea and decides he wants to get to know Liam better. "So Liam, have you always lived in New York?"

"No." Liam folds his napkin into a paper crane. "I'm from Maine actually."

"Oh cool." Harry stalls, trying to think of fucking anything he knows about Maine. It's a costal state, right? Like, kind of almost by Canada? "So it was... cold there?" Harry thinks he failed that one, but at least he tried.

"Eh, it had its days. Since it was by the coast it was windy mostly. But the sea kept it from ever getting too freezing." Liam unfolds his napkin again.

"So do you still have family there?" Harry asks, genuinely interested.

"Yeah. Both my parents and my sisters. They're married though." Liam takes a sip of his water.

"Oh cool." Harry nods. "And are you married?"

"No." Liam looks down into his drink.

"Girlfriend then?" Harry prompts.

"Just broke up actually. Same story the tenth time over." Liam mumbles.

"What do you mean?" Harry asks.

"You know. New York girls all want the aggressive guys. I'm just not that guy." Liam sighs.

"So then find someone who's not from New York." Harry suggests. "I mean, look at us. Neither of us are from here and we currently live here. I'm sure there's lots of girls from out of state."

The host drops their food off and Liam picks at his with a fork. "I don't know. I don't really think love is for people like us."

"Why do you say that?" Harry feels a little offended by the statement. For what reasons in particular, he does not know. He just knows it doesn't sound right.

"Guys like us who are focused on their careers. It's impossible to have a balance. Like, we're married to our jobs. There's no time for anything else if you want to be successful." Liam says, dismally.

Not only does Harry disagree. But he disagrees strongly.

"I disagree strongly." He voices.

Liam looks up at him, completely confused. "So are you telling me you or Mr. Styles have found a way to make a serious relationship work with the positions you're in? Because last I heard, any successful businessman in the state of New York is single or divorced."

Harry chooses his words carefully. "I just think... if you find the right person... that you can both make it work if you really want. Especially if they have a similar job as you. Because then they would understand, you know?"

Liam looks thoughtful at that and skewers a chicken into his mouth. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

They eat in a comfortable silence for a little while until Harry's phone rings. He immediately snatches it, knowing it's the Skype ring tone and answers. "Hello?"

"Are you still on a date with that Liam bastard?" Louis has a very no-bullshit tone of voice on.

"I'm not on a-" And Harry shuts his trap before he exclaims it out loud and changes his response. "I'm just having a... business lunch."

Liam looks across the table worriedly at him and Harry just gives him a false smile, letting him know it's not his fault.

"And you're sharing your wardrobe with him?" Louis snaps.

"He didn't have any." Harry says, wondering who the hell exposed him on Twitter- he presumes- but also speaks vaguely so Liam won't know what he's currently conversing about.

"And how do you think that makes me feel baby? Being on another continent only for my personal assistant to inform me that you're out having lunch with another man who is in your clothes." Louis says with an air of disappointment.

Harry blushes. "Not... good." He says stupidly.

Liam looks anxiously at Harry and Harry mouths a 'sorry' to him.

"Not good indeed." Louis hums. "What do you think we should do about that then?"

Harry bites his tongue, trying not to beg for a punishment in front of his secretary. "Whatever you think." He says meekly.

"What do I think?" Louis muses introspectively. "You're still in front of him, aren't you? Tell me what _you_ think baby."

"I think..." Harry swallows and tugs at a curl. "I think... you probably know what's best." He tries for ambiguity again.

"Tsk, tsk. More specific please." Louis calls him out.

Harry's heart hammers a little harder. "Probably..." He has no idea what the hell to say or how to say it. All his brain is giving him is fog. "Probably something bad." He says for lack of a better term.

"You think we should do something bad? Oh, you mean like a punishment?" Louis asks sweetly. "Tell me baby. What do you want as punishment for your lack of personal boundaries with business associates?"

Harry's face goes even redder because yeah, he's probably being _way_ too friendly with Liam; but moreso than that, _Louis_ is a business associate that he has no personal boundaries with. Louis is the one calling him and embarrassing him in front of Liam. Forcing Harry to name his punishment in front of Liam.

When Harry's eyes make their way down to his lap, they pass by the glass of iced tea that's still sitting on the table and in a manifestation from God, Harry knows what to do.

"Ice." He says confidently.

"Hm." Louis sounds pleased and that makes Harry's gut churn. "I think that's a splendid idea. In fact, I want you to use crushed ice this time. Get a Styrofoam cup full, send me a picture of it in the next five minutes, and then go back to your nice lunch meeting Liam while the ice melts out."

Harry's mouth hangs open. He has about a billion rebuttals as to why he _can't_ do that. Like the fact that he has 10 minutes to finish his lunch and be back at work. Or the fact that he doesn't want a wet stain on his shorts. Or the fact that he's in fucking public and can't concentrate on a punishment while trying to be cordial with his secretary. But none of them even hold a candle to the task that Louis has set forth with Harry accomplishing.

"I will." He says emphatically.

"Don't let me down baby." Louis says like he knows Harry won't. "Or else I think my flight in Brazil will be delayed an extra day."

Harry has never been more sure of anything in his whole life than he is at this moment- _knowing_ \- that he will not let Louis down. His world turns upside down at the mere _thought_ of not being able to see Louis for another day. "I won't."

"I'm off to a meeting. I expect that picture in less than four minutes now." Louis demands. "Tick tock."

And then he hangs up.

Harry looks at his plate that's completely full of food and back up to Liam. "I have to go to the bathroom."

He abruptly stands up without any acknowledgment from Liam and rushes to the counter. "Hi, could I get a cup of crushed ice please?"

Marissa, as her name tag reads, looks at him boredly. "We only have cubed here."

The blood drains from Harry's face. This was _not_ part of the plan. "You don't in the back or anything? I'll pay for it."

"We only have cubed." She repeats.

Harry looks around and panics. He nearly runs back to the table where Liam is sitting. "Their bathroom is out of order- I just- I'll just run down the street really quick. I thought I saw some public restrooms there."

"Really?" Liam furrows his eyebrows. "Because I just saw a guy walk out-"

"Stay right here! I'll be back." Harry sprints out of the restaurant and onto the New York City sidewalk because Louis told him to put god damned crushed ice up his ass and he's going to fucking do it.

He looks around and sees his saving grace in the form of a McDonalds. He runs in and they don't have a Styrofoam cup, so Harry just grabs the 16 ounce one since he doesn't know how the kid's cup compares to it.

He waits for a mom and her kid to finish filling up their Sprites to take over the soft drink machine and fill his cup with crushed ice. He checks his phone on the way to the bathroom, noting that he has three-minutes left.

It's not until he's in the stall with his pants down and the cup of ice in his hands that he realizes that this is _crushed_ ice. He almost cries in frustration, not even knowing how the hell Louis expects him to _do_ this. But Harry chose this and he deserves this.

And he has three minutes and 30 seconds left.

He decides on bending over the toilet because it seems like a good idea and opening his hole with one hand. The other one, he clumsily grabs a handful of ice with and shoves it up against his rim to try and get it in.

He nearly screams at the instant change in temperature around one of the hottest parts of his body. He can already feel bits going up into him while others melt down the sides of his legs. He panics and tries thrusting it in quicker, only for it to slip through his fingers and clatter all over the tiled floor.

He breathes out nothing but disappointment in himself and tries again.

And again.

And again.

And it's been a fucking minute and he can hardly feel any ice shards that have gone in him and stayed and so he pulls out his phone to call Louis with frozen fingers that are drenched with melted ice.

Louis doesn't answer.

So Harry calls again.

And again.

And Louis still doesn't answer.

And Harry is fucking pissed. He's pissed at himself for failing and being a disappointment and not being able to do one simple thing. And he's out of fucking ice.

Harry yanks his shorts back up and marches back out into the McDonalds lobby, this time waiting behind a morbidly obese man before filling his cup with crushed ice again.

Back to the stall, his entire existence relies on getting this cup of ice into his ass in the next 63 seconds.

He stares at it for two and a half seconds and remembers that Lenny told him the way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.

One ice shard at a time.

That's how Harry gets the entire 16 ounces of crushed ice into his ass. His fingers are numb and his hands are trembling and he's dripping water from his wrists to his elbows. His rim is frozen and freezing at the same time and Harry takes a picture of the cup next to him and water leaking out of his hole and sends it to Louis right as the clock signifies his five-minute mark is up.

Harry wants to collapse and cry on the bathroom floor because his entire abdomen is full and aching. His thighs just want to tremble and his brain is fuzzy as all get out. But there's more to Louis' instruction. And Louis' instruction involves Harry going back in and finishing lunch with Liam while the ice melts out of his ass.

So with shaky legs and a pitiful, choked off moan, Harry makes himself stand up straight and pull his shorts back up. He can already feel the water pooling around the spandex and soaking into it.

When he's out of the stall, he turns around to check out his bum and thank God he's wearing _black_ spandex because he can't see any kind of wet spot.

He focuses on nothing but breathing in and out and the ice in his ass as he makes his way out of McDonalds, feeling like everyone and their child is staring at him and the water leaking from his rear end.

Stepping outside hits him like a snowstorm up the ass since that's exactly what it feels like. Each step makes him breathe a little lighter- threatening to pant and cry out with each movement.

He walks faster, and if he's trying to run to or from the sensation, he can't figure it out.

He sits down in front of Liam with a stark white face and quaking thighs. He wraps an arm around his abdomen, positive he can feel the coldness radiating through every single one of his internal organs. He swears if he gets enough friction on his skin, he can melt it quicker.

"Are you okay?" Liam asks with a cocked head.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but his vocal cords are frozen. His body is frozen. His insides are frozen. His brain is frozen.

He stares at his tea instead because it feels like the most natural thing to do. He goes out to reach it and feels like he might be buzzed or something because he can't get his hand to reach where he wants but it's probably mostly because he just can't _think_. His abs are seizing and his rim is clenching around nothing but melting water and his cock is _begging_ to get hard.

He slams his face down on the table instead and groans.

Liam gasps. "Harry-"

"I'm good!" Harry squeaks and grits his teeth together. "Don't touch me." He whisper yells.

"Are you sure you're...?" Liam trails off, seemingly not wanting to repeat himself.

Harry nods into the wooden table and lets his face play out what's happening to his body for a second. With each fish mouth though, the sensation only feels like it's getting greater and the wet spot on his shorts feels like it's only getting bigger. What if he leaves a wet spot on the bench when he gets up? What if it becomes obvious that his ass is leaking?

Harry lets out a small whimper before hearing his phone vibrate. And _that_ snaps him out of his spiraling thoughts. He snatches his phone greedily for validation from the one person he needs it from.

**Good God you actually did it. I'm so fucking proud of you baby xx**

Harry squints at the message.

Louis _didn't_ think he could do it?! Louis didn't think it was even _possible_? Why would Louis give him a task that was impossible? Does Louis _want_ to stay in Brazil an extra day? Is he going to anyway?

Harry's fingers can't type fast enough.

**Are you still coming home tomorrow????**

He ignores the wet residue his finger pads leave behind and stares as text showing that 'Louis is typing' pops up. Harry waits and ignores the fuck out of Liam because Liam could be chopped liver for all Harry cares at this point.

**Of course. Have to reward my baby for doing so perfect <3**

Harry swears his heart literally melts because he feels a particularly thick rush of cold water drip out of him and he lets out a small whine.

Louis is coming home tomorrow.

Harry fucking did it.

But he has a conversation to continue with Liam if he wants to fully see this through.

His hands are still trembling and his thighs won't stop shaking and his abs are still clenching and his hole is absolutely writhing, now fighting the gas that's building up from the air released from the ice. His face and brain are cloudy, blocking him from thinking about anything but Louis. But he looks up regardless and meets Liam straight in the eyes.

He aggressively grabs his kebab and bites a piece of chicken off. "You said you had sisters? How old are they?"

~~~

**/Sneak Peek for Next Update/**

Suddenly there's Gucci diluted with alcohol filling his nostrils and he feels the overwhelming presence of someone standing behind him.  He turns to see Gigi very much invading his personal bubble with a feral look in her eyes.  Zayn is watching on intently.

Louis clears his throat.  "Can I help you?"

"I don't know."  She backs him up against the counter.  Standing up next to him being seated, there is a sizable difference in height and Louis tries not to let it get to him.  She places a hand on his chest and one around his neck.  "Can you?"

~~~


	29. Chapter 29

 

~~~

L

Louis had called Harry right before boarding the plane, and now he's been sitting in the same spot for nine hours.

Well, not sitting per say. He and Zayn and Gigi have been wandering around the plane much more than should be allowed. But people actually respect who he is this flight and let him do what he wants.

Louis, the responsible person he is, has agreed to watch over Zayn and Gigi while they get shit faced. It's rather thrilling actually. They both hold their liquor incredibly well, and other than the equilibrium problem and smelling like a pit of alcohol, they pull it together perfectly when flight attendants check on them. They also, apparently, have a habit of switching from language to language the drunker they get. Louis doesn't bother feeling left out because he's been messaging Harry in between the Catalan and German.

Zayn surprises Louis though when he finds him right up next to his face, struggling marginally to stay steadied on the barstool.

"Lewis." Zayn whispers in his ear.

"It's Louis." Louis corrects.

"Lewis." Zayn disregards him. "I have a cat named Lewis."

"You have a cat named Lewis." Louis repeats.

Gigi gives him a sultry smile. "We picked it out together."

Louis rolls his eyes and picks up his phone to see a message from Harry.

**Yeah, I think I'm supposed to stay till 10 tonight :/ We're conferencing the team in Georgia... which I thought was in the US...??**

Louis can't help but chuckle. He responds to Harry and it's back to German for Gigi and Zayn.

**It's a country in Eurasia. They're 11 hours ahead of us. If you're conferencing at 10, you probably won't be leaving work till midnight.**

He sighs. Such is the life of a CEO. If they're having Harry sit in on conferences, it's a good sign for Harry's progress. Meaning he's probably on the level of understanding to keep up with what's going on and why.

Not that he wasn't intelligent enough to keep up by any means. Harry's _incredibly_ intelligent. But he's being trained to run one of the largest companies in the world. It's a lot to keep up with.

"They have Skype on this plane?" Zayn looks over Louis' shoulder at his phone.

"Yes, they have Wi-Fi on every plane except that last one from Hell and yes, I'm using Skype." Louis' phone lights up again with a response from Harry.

**I looked at the agenda though. We only have two things to ask them. So it shouldn't be longer than five minutes.**

Louis laughs out loud at that. Zayn and Gigi both lean in to try and read his phone. Louis pulls it away from them and slits his eyes. "I don't try and read your personal conversations with each other. Stay out of mine."

Gigi glares right back at him and Zayn does the same. They all have a couple seconds where they're glaring at each other and then Zayn laughs and goes back to conversing in Catalan.

Louis replies back to Harry.

**It'll end up being an hour at least. Then you'll have to go over everything with Desmond and make sure the right people have the right information for when they show up to work eight hours later, which will take an additional hour. Midnight xx**

Harry's reply comes shortly after.

**:(**

Suddenly there's Gucci diluted with alcohol filling his nostrils and he feels the overwhelming presence of someone standing behind him. He turns to see Gigi very much invading his personal bubble with a feral look in her eyes. Zayn is watching on intently.

Louis clears his throat. "Can I help you?"

"I don't know." She backs him up against the counter. Standing up next to him being seated, there is a sizable difference in height and Louis tries not to let it get to him. She places a hand on his chest and one around his neck. "Can you?"

"That is completely dependent upon what is being asked." Louis says reasonably.

She smirks and looks Louis up and down.

Louis raises an eyebrow in interest.

She dips her head down so that her lips graze Louis' ear. He's sure he'll find purple lipstick tinted to his earlobe later. "I need you... to guard the bathrooms for me."

Louis tries not to laugh. Gigi definitely doesn't realize how drunk she is or else she'd surely know that she wouldn't have to rely on attempted seduction to get Louis' support. He plays along with it though.

"You mean to tell me..." Louis speaks lowly against her neck and reflexively places a hand around her waist, "that you've never joined the mile-high club?"

"I've been naked pretty close to a mile high. Just never been fucked." Gigi whispers and- _oh God_ , is that a tongue?

Shivers run up Louis' spine at the lack of sexual- hell, physical- contact from anyone other than himself for the last two weeks. He gently pulls his face away from where Gigi is nibbling on his earlobe and turns her around, now with her waist clasped between both of his hands. Her waist is so tiny. Women are so tiny.

He hooks his chin on her shoulder and she preens at the contact. "You have seven minutes starting now. Better not waste them."

She's out of his grasp and grabbing Zayn before Louis can even blink. Then they're tearing down the aisle to the first class bathrooms. Louis chuckles to himself.

"Can I get you a drink sir?" The bartender- Kallie- asks.

"No thank you." He says, returning to his phone.

"You do realize you've just assisted in committing a felony?" She deadpans.

Louis rolls his eyes. "Only in Britain." He pulls out his wallet and slides her a hundred-dollar bill. "Just give them seven minutes."

"You really think they'll be done in seven minutes?" She asks skeptically, but pockets the bill anyway.

"I bet you a hundred dollars they'll be done in less than five." Louis shakes his wrist to look at his Rolex. Definitely less than five minutes.

"You're on. Hope you're alright with losing another hundred dollars." She says cockily.

"Sweetheart, I shit hundred dollar bills and use them as kindling for my fireplace." Louis strokes his chin. "Actually, I misspoke. I have a crystal Swarovski gas fireplace. I can't burn anything in it."

Kallie's demeanor drops into one of seduction. A terribly done face and quirk of her lips. "What else do you do in front of your fireplace?"

Louis almost grins at how stupid she is. He doesn't. But he almost does. If it took him mentioning a crystal fireplace for her to realize he's wealthy, then she's the least competent gold-digger he's ever come across.

And he's a filthy person anyway and who the hell is Kallie to him other than the person he's about to get his 100 dollars back from?

"I spend most of my time letting pretty boys suck on my cock in front of my fireplace." He straightens his Jacob and Co. cufflinks and drinks the rest of his water. "Refill please. With a lemon this time."

She takes the glass from him and doesn't give up. "I swing all ways."

Louis shakes his head. "And I don't."

His glass is set in front of him again and as he's about to take a drink, half the air he inhales is a mix of Gucci and alcohol and now... well, sex.

Zayn sits next to him- having only a little trouble rebalancing on the barstool- ever the stoic look on his face. Louis pushes his glass to the side and taps his fingers on the counter until he gets Kallie's attention.

She looks a little put off.

Louis makes a show of looking at his Rolex. "Would you look at that? Three minutes and thirty seconds."

Kallie huffs and stuffs her hand in her pocket to give Louis his money back.

Louis makes a dismissal motion with his hand though. "Keep it. You obviously need it more than me."

Kallie's mouth opens, then closes again. She doesn't make another move to try and give it back and goes back to preparing orders coming in on the computer.

Gigi follows behind shortly after, hair and makeup in perfect condition; only sign of just having been fucked on the sink of an airplane bathroom being a blush that is fading from her cheeks and heavy beard burn along her neck.

"Gin and tonic." She orders from Kallie.

Kallie's eyes flick to Louis and she stares directly at him. "I have to cut you guys off."

Louis really doesn't appreciate her desperate ways, but doesn't hold it against her because he used to be a persistent hustler himself. He pulls out his wallet again and gives her another hundred dollars.

She pockets it without a word and makes Gigi's drink.

Louis' phone vibrates again and he puts his attention back on it. It's a message from Harry.

**Grady's just tried calling me 7 times in a row...**

Louis furrows his eyebrows.

**Are you ignoring him?**

Aside from the stories of Harry's life in Kentucky every night, Louis hasn't heard anything from Harry about Grady since Louis forbid Harry from talking about him. Louis wonders if he's been trying to get a hold of Harry every day up until now.

**Yeah. But then Mona tried calling me 3 times. I can't answer anyways because I'm at work, but I'm nervous.**

Louis doesn't correct his English because he can't bring himself to after learning about Harry's lack of education in the area. He still feels horribly guilty about the entire incident.

He also doesn't have a problem with Harry talking to Mona, but if Harry's thinking how Louis' thinking, then there's a high chance that it's probably just Grady trying to call from Mona's phone. Or an emergency of some sort. But his parents have his number, and if they needed him, they could call.

**Don't be nervous. He's just realizing what he's lost because he's a fucking idiot.**

He sends it with a little more emotion than he should have over the message. Louis is far superior to Grady in all ways and refuses to stoop to his level of blindly reacting to situations. Just stay in control and comfort Harry. That's Louis' job right now.

**Okay... Can I see you tomorrow?**

Louis squints at his phone. This really takes him aback, because as far as he knew, Harry was basically living at his house, and Louis can't think of anything he's said that would be less than welcoming to Harry sharing his personal space with him.

**Of course. Were you not planning on sleeping at mine tonight?**

As far as Louis' personal plan went, he assumed he'd go into work for a couple hours after getting off the plane, stay late, then get home a little before midnight so he could have some food ready for Harry when he got there.

Normally, after business trips, Louis is in much need of a giant stress reliever and hits up his favorite BDSM club. Or in the past, he'd have his sub waiting in the scene room ready for him.

But Harry's not his sub because Louis flipped his shit when Harry signed the contract. Harry's also not responsible for helping Louis destress because it's not actually Harry's problem.

So Louis will cook with him instead. And listen to a Harry Styles story from his childhood with that Kentucky accent of his.

**I didn't know I could if you were there.**

Louis stares at the message for a minute. He's not drinking, but he feels like it because he's not understanding where Harry is coming from. It's both very Harry-like and un-Harry-like of him to say that.

On one hand, Harry is very much not an imposing person and Louis could see why he would be worried about foisting. On the other hand, Harry has next to no knowledge about being a sub- and though most subs know when and what to ask permission for- Harry has no clue and wouldn't automatically ask for permission of such things.

He decides to just ask.

**Why would you think that baby?**

Louis is pulled from his thoughts when he realizes Zayn is speaking Arabic next to him and Gigi is gazing at him with fascinated eyes.

Louis leans over to him. "Is it really necessary to continue speaking in foreign languages?"

Zayn blinks in confusion for a moment before turning back to Gigi and speaking in Mandarin instead.

Only because Louis did several background checks on Zayn, has read his resume, and been sitting by him for the last two hours are the reasons he knows that Zayn knows five languages. Apparently Gigi does too, as she keeps right up with him in responding in Mandarin.

Louis shakes his head to himself and looks at Harry's response.

**I don't know... I've just never stayed over with you before.**

Oh. Right.

Louis had forgotten about that because it feels as if he's been sleeping next to Harry every night anyway. And Harry in his house all the time makes Louis think of him as a permanent item there.

He feels completely unprioritized because not only has Harry never stayed the night with Louis, they also haven't even had sex yet.

A looming feeling creeps up on him when he envisions the last time he tried to have sex with Harry and couldn't get it up.

He winces at himself.

Next time, he'll stick to what he knows works, and then fuck Harry.

Except that really would be _much_ easier if he knew how to wine and dine Harry. But since Harry doesn't want to go out on public dates and also isn't comfortable drinking, he'll have to work with what he's got.

**There's a first time for everything. Also, I'd like to make you dinner for tonight. What would you like?**

Yes, Louis knows it takes some of the romance and impulsivity away from it all because he has to ask, but he doesn't know Harry well enough to do things like that for him yet. Also, he doesn't want Harry picking up some shitty fast food on his way out of the office only to show up to a legitimate meal.

**Dinner at midnight? I like steak and potatoes :)**

Louis laughs, because he would like steak and potatoes. "Zayn."

Zayn responds in Mandarin to Louis and Louis squints at him.

"English please." Louis clarifies when Zayn doesn't seem to know where he went wrong.

"Oh." Zayn blinks. "What?"

"I need you to make yourself a spare key for my penthouse, then go to the store and get some groceries and drop them off at mine. Then pay off the card when you get back to the office." Louis says.

"What am I getting from the store?" Zayn asks.

"A dinner menu that includes steak, potatoes, and some sort of vegetable." Louis turns his attention back to his phone.

"Potatoes are a vegetable." Gigi interjects her opinion.

"They are a useless filler food with no nutritional value." Louis dismisses. "And yes, you can go shop with him. Buy your cat dinner on me while you're at it."

"You got it boss." Zayn turns back to chatter in German to Gigi again.

**Steak and potatoes it is. Ugh... three more hours. I may be fluent in German by the time I'm home.**

Louis taps his fingers on the bar and looks around for a source of entertainment. He worked the entire first half of the flight, has been with Zayn and Gigi the last several hours, and now only has a couple left. He's done longer flights. He can make it.

~~~

**/Sneak Peek for Next Update/**

"Yeah...?" Harry seems confused again.

"Stay here." Louis scoots his chair back immediately and strides into his office to pull out Harry's contract. He's back at the kitchen table a moment later and slaps it on the table with a pen. "This. This is what you want with me?" He demands.

Harry nods quickly.

~~~


	30. Chapter 30

~~~

He fucking made it. Thank God.

Louis rolls up the sleeves of his scarlet robe as he moves the skillet of crisped potatoes onto the back burner. Megadeath helps him almost feel like cooking is just as good of a stress reliever as whipping someone. Almost.

His table is set and the mushrooms are ready by the time Harry knocks on the door. He shakes his head to himself because he knows Harry has a key and can help himself in.

He walks over to the door anyway- noticing fresh vacuum marks on his carpet and wondering when that happened- and opens it to see Harry looking at him like he might jump on Louis and tackle him to the floor in a giant hug. Like he might be dripping gold.

Or, well. Louis doesn't actually think that does it for Harry. He can't think of what he could potentially be dripping in that would make Harry look at him like that.

"Evening." Louis opens his door wider.

There's still that odd look on his face though. And two very different things happen in Louis' body. One, being that Louis wants to strip him, bend him over his sofa, and whip him all night long. Two, being the urge to hug him tight, sit next to him on the sofa, and listen to his stories all night long.

A blend of what their relationship has been physically, and what it's become emotionally over the last two weeks. Louis isn't quite sure what to do with it.

"Hey." Harry comes in, the look replaced with one that's more guarded, kicks off his Chelseas and hangs up his peacoat and Lanvin suit coat in Louis' coat closet.

"How did the conference go?" Louis shuts the door.

"Fine." Harry stands in place. "Took two hours like you said."

"Do you say that because you're surprised or happy that I was right?" Louis gives him an unimpressed look because he's not about to be patronized by Harry.

Harry bites his lips as he smiles though, and looks down to his feet. "Happy."

"Good." Louis takes a step forward with the intention to kiss him, and God, what even are they?

Harry stills immediately, like if he moves, he might ruin everything. So Louis places both hands on Harry's hips and rubs up and down his sides while Harry tries not to visibly shiver. Louis untucks his shirt tails and loosens the tie he wore today.

He's still not getting the slightest bit of response form Harry though.

Louis pauses with his lips an inch from Harry's. "You don't seem very much like you want to kiss me."

Harry's breath catches as he opens his mouth. "I don't want to piss you off."

Louis' heart plummets. He is a terrible Dom. He's a terrible anything and everything. He can't lose it though. Not tonight.

"You can instigate kissing me any time you'd like as long as you're not interrupting my work or unless I've given you specific instruction not to do so." Louis says, even though he knows Harry's read the contract and knows the information.

"I know." Harry says, predictably. "But I also thought I knew what would make you happy and ended up doing the opposite."

Louis sighs and pulls away from Harry. "Here, let's have dinner first."

"Do we have to keep the music on?" Harry asks.

Oh. Louis hadn't even realized it was still on. He pulls his cell phone out of his robe pocket to shut it off though. And then it's silent.

"You don't like it?" Louis asks out of curiosity.

Harry pulls his tie off the rest of the way and hangs it up in the closet with his coat and doesn't say anything.

"You're ignoring me?" Louis bites out because he hates how this night is going so far. Everything is wrong.

Harry spins to face him though and his voice raises hardly a decibel over his speaking tone, but it's raised nonetheless. "I just don't understand why you listen to music about drugs and drinking and death when you could be listening to music that's- I don't know- uplifting and inspiring and patriotic."

Looks like Harry has grown rather feral in his time apart from Louis. Though the words strike a chord through Louis, he doesn't let it show and fights back.

All that's going on in a loop in Louis' brain is 'do not punish,' 'do not punish,' 'he is not your sub,' 'do not punish.'

Louis doesn't _do_ fights. He doesn't fucking do fights. Fights are for couples- which they are not- and punishments are for subs- which Harry is not.

"How about you don't act like your taste in music is fucking better than mine when you haven't even given it a chance? Or know why I like it in the fucking first place?" Louis raises his voice. "And how about you don't come into _my_ home expecting me to change and cater it around you?"

That was certainly the wrong thing to say because Harry's face looks absolutely destroyed. For the shallow façade that Harry had thrown up, Louis was rather quick to believe it and dish back to him what he felt Harry was deserving of.

But the look on Harry's face now reminds Louis that Harry is sensitive to Louis. And Louis. Can't. Treat him like one of his employees.

Jesus, this is probably the most difficult thing Louis has ever dealt with in his life. Harry Styles is difficult.

Louis' voice comes out strained, but it comes out strong nonetheless. "Can we _please_ eat first and then talk?"

Harry nods imperceptibly then shuffles over to the table, making it very obvious that he doesn't intend to say a word until he's eaten.

Louis begrudgingly dishes up their food and they eat in silence, Harry not even thanking Louis for the meal. Which, honestly, pisses Louis off. Now Harry _is_ ignoring him. And that pisses him off more.

Louis focuses on his internal loop that reminds him of the scribbled out signature line on the contract. Speaking of, the reason for that in the first place was Louis' poor communication and response skills.

He needs to chill the fuck down before he does something else stupid. He just needs to calmly address the situation and let Harry know that it's either Louis and the contract or no Louis, no contract.

But he should apologize like a normal human being first since he's been a bit of a dick to Harry.

"Harry." Louis asserts.

Harry's eyes flick up to him.

"I'm sorry. This is all very new to me." He says distastefully.

"What?" Harry isn't catching on.

Louis motions between them. "Whatever the fuck we're trying to do." He points to their dinner. "Making dinner for you and not expecting sex or the scene room afterwards." He motions uselessly to the universe. "Not knowing how to wind down from business trips without BDSM."

Harry assesses him quietly for a moment. "You normally have a scene when you get back from business trips?"

Louis gives him a sarcastic 'sorry' look.

"It's passed midnight." Harry states.

"Do I look like I care what time of the day it is?" Louis asks ruefully.

"Did you go to... a club... before making dinner?" Harry asks.

Louis doesn't know what the fuck Harry is on. "No. Was I not making my fucking point clear?"

"Well you just said you weren't expecting anything in return for dinner." Harry repeats.

Louis wants to rip out his hair.

"So you weren't waiting for me and you haven't destressed from your trip." Harry says it slowly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it's not your problem, is it?" Louis clips.

"Well it is because it's upsetting you. And that affects me." Harry reasons.

"You're not a prisoner. You're free to leave whenever you'd like." Louis says spitefully.

"No-" Harry furrows his eyebrows, "why didn't you just start doing it?"

Louis' mouth pops open akin to what he believes his jaw dropping would be like, but nothing surprises Louis Tomlinson to the point of being jaw dropping, so instead, his mouth pops open lightly instead.

"Harry, that's called rape." Louis says with disbelief.

"Well then why didn't you ask?" Harry says like his prior question was nothing to be alarmed over.

That. Though. "Because you're not my sub."

"But we've done scenes before when I wasn't your sub." Harry says.

"You also hadn't signed, then rescinded your decision on the matter." Louis says.

"Well we can still have scenes." Harry tries. "How is it different than the ice thing a couple days ago?"

Louis swallows, because here it is. "It's different because we're physically together now. I don't feel comfortable continuing in our relationship without the contract. I. Literally. Cannot function without it. And you've had a more than fair due diligence time period to make your decision."

"You want me to make a decision right now?" Harry asks.

"Yes." Louis says sternly.

"Well yeah, I want to be your sub. I always did from the time I signed it. I just thought you didn't want me which is why I unsigned it and I didn't know how you felt about everything after that." Harry says.

"You still want to be my sub?" Louis asks, a little baffled. He didn't realize how much he was expecting a 'no' until right now.

"Yeah...?" Harry seems confused again.

"Stay here." Louis scoots his chair back immediately and strides into his office to pull out Harry's contract. He's back at the kitchen table a moment later and slaps it on the table with a pen. "This. This is what you want with me?"

Harry nods quickly.

"You having to deal with all of my fuck ups and short comings as a Dom and as a person and paying the price for them? You asking for permission for nearly everything and being punished for things I deem unfit? You moving into my home and living to please me?" A lot more honesty than Louis ever planned for came out with all of that.

Harry nods surely again. "Yeah. I do."

"Why." Louis demands from him for no logical reason.

"Because I think I love you." Harry nearly whispers.

Louis wants to flip his dining table and upheave the government because out of all the answers he was prepared for, _that_ was not one of them.

"Fuck." Louis runs his hands through his hair. "No. Fuck."

Harry instantly panics. "Is that bad? Should I not? I just thought-"

"I'm doing everything _wrong_. How the _hell_ could you love me?" Louis almost yells.

Harry shrinks in on himself, waiting for Louis to finish.

"Are you shitting me right now? Or are you being serious?" Louis is the master of sarcasm and rhetoricalities, but he couldn't determine if Harry was being serious if his life depended on it.

"Yes I'm serious." Harry says surely. "I think I do."

"Why?" Louis asks automatically.

"Because you make me a better person." Harry responds without missing a beat.

"We've known each other for hardly three months." Louis scoffs.

Harry shrugs.

It's unbelievable to him. In all Louis' past relationships, he strived for love. Only felt it for two subs. But always strived for it. It always made scenes better. Always made the relationship better. Louis was always the one to say it first since subs never wanted to overstep their boundaries with him.

Louis has fucked up things with Harry in almost every way he can _think_ of, and Harry is sitting here telling him that he thinks he loves him. He's gotten what he's longed for, and he's done shit for it.

"You don't love me." Louis decides. "It's a two-way street. Has to be reciprocated and worked for equally and if both parties don't feel it, it's not real."

Harry looks utterly defeated at that, and Louis doesn't let himself feel bad about it. He doesn't love Harry yet. There's no way Harry loves him.

"You're not allowed to sign the contract based on the premises of an emotion you _think_ you feel for me. I need a better reason." Louis lifts an eyebrow.

"Because you make me a better person." Harry says again, and Louis might lose his shit. " _Punishments_ -" Harry jumps in before Louis can speak, "make me a better person."

God damn it. Louis can't actually argue that. That was a flawless argument. He teases his bottom lip between his teeth and assesses Harry up and down.

Harry reaches to grab the pen, then freezes and looks to Louis. "Can I sign the contract?"

There's such a vacancy where Louis would love to hear 'Daddy,' but no. Also. No. "You don't have to ask permission yet. You haven't signed it." He says smartly.

"I wanted your approval long before I even thought about signing this contract." Harry clicks the pen.

"You'll get it when you've worked for it." Louis reasons because he's a reasonable person, despite the fact that Harry already has it.

"And I want a contract saying it. And saying that you deserve to have me please you in return." Harry signs his name next to where it was previously scribbled out. "Do I need to date it?"

Louis almost laughs. Someone has been signing a lot of business papers. "There's a space to fill in the date in the contract sub-heading."

Harry fills it out then slides it to Louis. "Done."

Louis takes the pen and sits down, looking from Harry back down to his and Harry's contract. "I'll make a photocopy for you."

"I'll remember everything." Harry says confidently.

"This is a six-page contract." Louis looks strictly at Harry.

"I'll remember everything." Harry says again.

"I know this contract forward and backward. If you infringe on anything, I'm making you repeat to me which rule you broke while punishing you. Understood?" Louis straightens the papers. If Harry wants someone to hold him to remembering every crossed t and dotted i, Louis is the one to do it.

"Yes sir." Harry says immediately.

"What time do you need to be in at work tomorrow?" Louis looks at the clock on his wall and sees that it's 1:13am.

Harry looks confused for a second before responding. "Eight like normal. But I'd probably be fine to go in at nine."

Louis might do stellar under sleep deprivation, but he will not subject Harry to the same. Also, Harry is his sub now. Harry needs minimum of eight hours of sleep a night according to the contract.

No scene tonight, but if he plans things right tomorrow, one could probably be arranged.

"Did you bring pajamas?" Louis asks.

"I don't have any." Harry responds.

So, no. "You can borrow a pair of mine for tonight then."

"Oh, no I meant I don't sleep in pajamas." Harry explains.

Well then. "Neither do I."

"You don't wear your robe to bed?" Harry questions.

Louis quirks an eyebrow. "No."

"Oh." Harry says, obviously digesting that information. "Well, I think we should do a scene to help you destress."

"There isn't time for that tonight Harry." Louis says.

"I'll be fine. I want to do it for you and I'm used to a couple hour sleeping schedule. I lived on a farm, you know." Harry points out.

Which, yes. Louis did know. "But you're my sub now. Eight hours of sleep every night."

"Well I want to negotiate that. Eight hours isn't normal for me. Four hours is." Harry argues. "I only sleep four or five hours when I'm alone at my house."

"If you wanted to negotiate, you should have brought it up before signing it." Louis says thinly.

"Well the contract is made to be updated and changed. And I'm letting you know it needs to be updated." Harry says surely.

"I won't allow your minimum to be four hours." Louis says with some steel in his voice.

"Five then." Harry debates.

"Seven and a half." Louis says smartly.

"You can't do that." Harry calls him out. "You're supposed to say seven and then we negotiate on six."

"I do what I want." Louis says belligerently.

"You do what _we_ want. This is in both of our best interests." Harry debates.

And Jesus, Harry's really gotten assertive and confident since Louis has been gone. At least the façade he puts on certainly shows that. Louis is impressed. Impressed enough to go along with it.

"Fine. Six hours. Write it into the contract and date it with your initials by it. Then I want you in nothing but your underwear in the scene room laying on your stomach." Louis says.

Harry can't scribble his initials fast enough.

~~~

**/Sneak Peek for Next Update/**

"You are to keep your eyes closed the entire time.  Can I trust you to do that, or do I need to blindfold you?"  Louis stands next to the bed looking down at Harry.

Harry instantly shuts his eyes.  He has no idea what Louis is going to do to him.  No idea if he can handle keeping his eyes shut and not accidentally opening them.  He'd be such a disappointment to Louis if he did that.  He wants to say yes to the blindfold to ensure his success, but Louis put it into terms of _trust_.  Of fucking _course_ Louis can trust Harry.

"You can trust me."  Harry says softly but surely.

~~~


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: I know you guys have waited 84 years for some more scenes. Thank you for enjoying the ride, and let me know what you think of the chapter :)

-Dannie

~~~

  
H

Harry lays down in the scene room on the bed. He didn't receive any other instruction from Louis than this, and decided to just keep it simple. He's fucking thrilled that his tactics worked. He'll have to thank Pablo and Kerry Patterson for that later.

Or. Well. Maybe not. But still.

Harry feels good about how he talks to Louis now. Louis always lets him feel valid and equal and Harry isn't as scared to have an opinion or let it be known.

So he waits with anxious anticipation, facing the headboard that's up against the wall and tries listening in for the sound of Louis' footsteps or the inevitable sound of heavy rock music.

Neither come for a while, except it feels warmer in the room, and Harry wonders if he's just going crazy or if Louis is inadvertently punishing him for something. He would deserve it anyway. Harry feels like he's gotten away with way too much lately. It's been weeks since he's felt guilty over something, so it must be time to be punished for all his sins of omission.

No music comes, but the sound of the door opening does. Harry tries not to breathe an audible sigh of relief at Louis entering his presence. He swivels his head to see Louis walking into the room in his scarlet robe with a dead set look in his eyes, every movement of his body exuding complete confidence.

Harry tries to keep from moving at all- tries to stop his breathing- because he doesn't want to move unless Louis gives him explicit permission to.

"You are to keep your eyes closed the entire time. Can I trust you to do that, or do I need to blindfold you?" Louis stands next to the bed looking down at Harry.

Harry instantly shuts his eyes. He has no idea what Louis is going to do to him. No idea if he can handle keeping his eyes shut and not accidentally opening them. He'd be such a disappointment to Louis if he did that. He wants to say yes to the blindfold to ensure his success, but Louis put it into terms of _trust_. Of fucking _course_ Louis can trust Harry.

"You can trust me." Harry says softly but surely.

"I hope so baby." The sensation of the backs of Louis' fingers graze along Harry's cheekbone and makes his breath catch. "I need you to be relaxed for this. Can you take some deep breaths for me?"

"Yeah." Harry focuses on slowing his breathing that he didn't realize had gotten so shallow. As he does so, he's forced to relax more of his body.

"Good boy." Louis traces along his brow bone and Harry's face muscles relax without him even realizing it.

Then Louis withdraws his hand, so Harry focuses on just lying completely still and trying to stay calm. There's still a thrum of anticipation that zips through every nerve of his body, aching to make him jitter and move, but he doesn't give in to it.

He hears Louis shuffle around with things in a corner of the room where Harry recalls an armoire and a large vase full of different things. He also remembers there being things hung up on the wall. It could be any number of things and Harry can't help but wonder _why_ Louis wants him to keep his eyes closed.

Maybe Louis thinks he'll panic at seeing whatever Louis pulls out. Maybe Harry doesn't deserve to look at Louis during scenes. Maybe he really just wants to see if Harry trusts him.

He hears Louis set something down close to the bed and then open a drawer to pull something out. Harry knows Louis is on the other side of the room, and he _could_ open his eyes quickly- just barely- to see what the hell Louis is planning on doing to him.

No. He won't though. Louis trusts Harry to trust him.

Something else gets set down and Harry is all sorts of confused, but focuses on taking deep breaths instead. Then, the bed dips and Harry can feel Louis' thighs bracket his hips.

He momentarily stops breathing to adjust to Louis _touching_ him for the first time in weeks. Harry wants to turn around and open his eyes and beg Louis to touch him or fuck him or _anything_.

He nearly leaps in place when Louis' hands make contact with Harry's back.

Louis' hands come off instantly and his tone is dark. "I tell you I need you to be relaxed and this is what you give me?"

Harry bites down on his lip to keep himself from apologizing and then decides on something better. "I'll do better, I promise."

Both of Louis' palms rub up and down the length of Harry's back and Harry tries not to shiver with anticipation. He'll probably get spanked for that. Or hit. Louis' probably just warming up his skin to start hitting him.

"Deep breaths baby." Louis' hands continue to smooth over Harry's skin.

He has to do this. He can do this.

"Do you need me to talk you through what I'm going to do?" Louis offers.

Harry thinks long and hard on that statement. That would mean knowing what's coming. Louis is offering because Harry is obviously not relaxed yet and he's going to ruin the whole scene if he can't even do something as fucking simple as relax.

There wasn't judgement in Louis' tone, so Harry knows it's a negotiation. But Harry doesn't want that. He wants to show Louis that he can give him all of his trust.

This is about _Louis_ anyway. It's about helping Louis destress. _God_ , Harry is so fucking selfish. This is about Louis and Harry is making it about himself.

"No. I trust you." Harry resolves.

"What's your color?" Louis asks.

"Green." He instantly responds.

Louis' thumbs put a gentle pressure along the base sides of Harry's spine, working into the muscle there. Harry can't for the life of him figure out what the hell Louis is doing and what he's preparing him for, but he lets it happen anyway.

Louis' fingers gently walk up the muscles of Harry's back and Harry finds it surprisingly relaxing. He finds himself breathing slower because of it.

Louis' hands knead into his shoulders, and Harry nearly moans because he had no fucking clue his shoulders were so tense. Louis makes them relax though. Harry feels like the weight of a cow is being lifted from his shoulders.

When Louis' hands move to under Harry's shoulder blades, it finally hits him.

Louis is massaging him.

Harry. He's never been massaged before. He's never been rubbed or touched like this before. He lets out something like a giant sigh of relief that he'd been holding his entire life and feels like he's just evaporated into the bed.

"That's it baby." Louis encourages.

Harry's deep breathing comes to him like second nature now as he feels Louis on his skin. He feels like Louis' doing something so much more than just touching him. Like he's transferring his energy and trust to Harry. Laying it out and spreading it all over him and enveloping Harry in warmth.

When the bed shifts, Harry wants to object and beg Louis to stay on him and keep touching him. But he trusts whatever Louis' plan is for him and remembers this is about his Dom.

Harry gathers that Louis is grabbing something metal because it clanks together as he picks it up off the floor.

"Hands above your head baby." Louis instructs softly.

Harry does so, slowly, but without hesitation. He assumes the position of being handcuffed; moments later, he finds that he's right.

Except this time instead of plastic, it's metal handcuffs that are being fixed around his wrists, and he reflexively balls his hands into a quick fist. Handcuffs that he knows he couldn't break even if he tried. It's lined with fur, presumably so it won't break his skin as easily, but it's thinly padded and Harry can feel the metal push through regardless.

He wonders why Louis did that. If BDSM is supposed to be about pain, wouldn't Louis want to make it as painful as possible for Harry? Wouldn't that mean handcuffs sans fur?

Maybe it's because he's easing Harry into it. Or maybe. Maybe the handcuffs aren't for pain- not this time. Maybe they're just to keep Harry in a certain position.

Louis drags his hands down each of Harry's arms, and Harry feels like he's reminding him to stay relaxed. He does, blessing the handcuffs because they're a reminder too. A reminder that Harry will do whatever Louis wants and needs. The handcuffs feel like an extension of Louis. Like if Louis could hold Harry's hands up there the entire time, he would- but he can't- so he has the handcuffs do his bidding for him.

He accepts them easily and waits for whatever comes next.

After Louis' hands slide down the entire length of his body- taking his underwear off on the way down- and they pause around Harry's ankles, wringing them lightly like Harry's seen him do to his own wrists dozens of times. The touch is soft though, and Harry anticipates something to happen to his ankles- like Louis is preparing him for it.

Then his hands are gone and there's the clanking of metal again. Cuffs are secured around each ankle, but they feel significantly less pliable than the handcuffs around his wrists. That's when he realizes his feet are locked into a spreader bar.

"Color baby." Louis says.

"Green." Harry's surprised at the fact that he's not surprised with his answer.

Louis seemingly rubs his hands up and down the backs of Harry's legs for good measure and Harry only sighs more contentedly into the sheets. He assumes the next part of the scene is where the pain starts, but he trusts that Louis won't give him anything more than he can handle.

Except the pain doesn't start.

He instead feels leather encasing his legs. From his ankles to his mid thighs, the leather closes around him. He's curious what the point of it is, up until he hears Louis clasp buckles and the leather tighten around his legs.

Louis does it slowly and methodically, and if it weren't for his exuding energy of confidence and calm, Harry would probably start to marginally freak out, because he can't move his legs at _all_. His knees are locked into place and his legs are spread a specific distance apart and he can't do anything to change it.

He wiggles his hips just to mentally ease his mind and remind himself that he can still move. Then a slap that's louder rather than hard on his ass and clenches his eyes shut to keep them from flying open.

"Don't move." Louis commands.

Harry doesn't want to speak an affirmative because he feels like it would be too loud, but he was just instructed to not move either. So he opts for staying completely frozen.

And relaxed. Louis told him to stay relaxed. Relaxed and still.

He takes a deep breath and smiles because he will do whatever Louis tells him to do. He trusts Louis. He is doing this for Louis.

Then there's the same material wrapping around his arms. Harry is a quick study and straightens out his arms immediately to make it easier for Louis to access. It's not long before his arms are secured tight and straight above his head.

He's handcuffed to the headboard, back up, and has binders locking his joints into place. He feels about 50 pounds heavier and weighted to the bed, even though he knows he's not.

"Color?" Louis asks again.

"Green." Harry says like it's the only response he'll have tonight.

"Do not. Move." Louis emphasizes.

Harry's heart spikes at that, because he knows Louis knows he remembers. Which means it's really fucking important that Harry stays still.

"Yes sir." Harry whispers.

Louis straddles his back again, this time facing backwards. He massages Harry's ass muscles and the tops of his thighs. And Harry's ready. He's ready for what comes next.

"Green." Harry says, not even realizing that Louis hadn't asked him his color.

Louis chuckles. "Very well."

Then he's dismounting Harry, and it's not too long before he feels something cold and smooth sliding along his ass. With a small movement, the object taps him lightly, almost bouncing up and down with its own weight against his ass.

The movements change to feather light as Louis moves down to the backs of Harry's thighs that are exposed out of the leg splint binders. It makes his stomach flutter and Harry giggles, not having a clue why he's reacting this way.

Louis doesn't say anything though, and continues on with unpredictable movements. Harry wonders if maybe he's using the edge of a paddle to tap along his butt and thighs.

After trying to count or memorize any kind of pattern, Harry realizes that it's in vain. So he just accepts the touch that comes to him. And when he feels the same tapping unexpectedly on the muscle between his spine and shoulder blade, he finds it soothing and comforting.

The object comes down a little harder and then is quickly followed by three small taps and Harry hardly feels anything. Then the object moves to his ass again, coming down with more intensity twice in a row; the first hit stingier, and the second one more thuddy as it feels like it's resting against his skin even after the hit was delivered.

Then it's another surprising variation of light and moderate taps that Harry gladly accepts and finds himself not anticipating- but welcoming- because he's not worried about Louis doing any harm to him.

He doesn't realize how much later, but then there's one stroke that hits the globe of his ass harder than any of the previous ones. It doesn't fully register until the light tapping has already commenced again, so Harry doesn't think to react to it.

_'Do not. Move.'_

It repeats in his head again like a mantra and Harry breathes slowly and naturally into the sensations.

The light tapping gets replaced with a consistent moderate tapping with an occasional burst of a thud or sting being delivered to the inner shoulder muscles, ass, or thighs.

He likes it. Likes letting Louis do what he wants to do. Likes staying still to please Louis.

He hears it before he feels it. The loud whistle of the object slicing through the air and just repeats Louis' words.

_Do not move. Do not move._

When the thick wood hits his ass and stays pressed against it after the blunt blow has been delivered is when Harry finally registers that he's being caned. The strong thud and the realization makes his adrenaline sky rocket. His arm and leg binders feel tighter and his legs feel more immobile.

"You're doing so good baby." Louis lands the cane with a moderate thud against the backs of his thighs. "Look so good."

His arms and legs prickle with sweat, the heat from being encased in the leather finally hitting him. For the first time he also feels his hair tickling his face and the ends starting to stick to his sweaty forehead. He wants to itch it, but he can't.

A sharp and stinging blow snaps against his thighs and Harry cries out. "Fuck!"

The next hit lands hard precisely between the muscles between his shoulder blade and spine. The cane stays pressed to his skin like Louis intends for it to keep moving. It doesn't hurt half as much and that's when Harry picks up on the technique behind what Louis is doing.

The quick hits that barely touch his skin before coming off are the ones that sting more. The longer hits are a duller, but stronger, thud that reminds him more of paddling.

Louis moves the cane back down to his ass and does a buildup of strokes. Harry stays completely loose for it, body starting to buzz with more adrenaline and excitement. It doesn't feel much different than being kicked by his cows or donkeys. The blunt force gives him a nostalgic relief.

He hears the slicing of the cane through the air and anticipates to at least flinch, but when the cane comes down on him, it hits a sweet spot on his ass that he can feel move from the point of contact, through his groin, and in every extremity of his body.

"Oh God." Harry moans.

Louis responds by following it up with another movement identical to the prior and Harry doesn't feel so weighted down to the bed anymore.

The cane goes lighter and comes down on his thighs and Harry wishes Louis would go back to hitting the sweet spot. He yearns for it and hardly registers the hits to his legs.

Another hard smack comes down on his back again, followed quickly by rapid, snappier hits to his ass. He can't help but react by flexing his muscles to it and stops himself as soon as he can consciously do so.

He breathes in and out again, regulating his responses and taking the next thuddier hits with ease.

Louis stops, and Harry doesn't realize it until he tenses up again- immediately worrying that he did something wrong. He feels and hears Louis unbuckling his leg restraints and wants _so_ badly to open his eyes and see the look on Louis' face. To see if he's upset or disappointed in Harry.

Maybe they're done and Harry's supposed to have reacted differently. Maybe Harry is doing everything so completely wrong and fucking it all up for Louis. Maybe Louis regrets having Harry sign as his sub.

"Relax baby. You're doing so good." Louis runs fingers up and down the backs of his now-exposed legs.

The warm air feels cold when it hits his sweaty skin and Harry forces himself to continue staying still. Staying relaxed. The validation from Louis allows him to do so.

After both leg braces are off, Louis rubs at Harry's feet and _God_ , it's nice to feel him again. Aches and tightness in his feet dissipate in moments of Louis' touch.

Then Louis slaps the soles of his feet and Harry takes it like he knew it was Louis' plan all along. He thinks it's because of the thicker skin there, but the slaps don't sting hardly at all like they did the first time he got spanked by Louis.

He finds it rhythmic and feels his body pulse along with the slaps that Louis delivers. He's not sure when Louis replaced his hand with the cane, but there's a much stronger thud against the arch of his feet that feels distinctly like wood.

He sighs at the comfort of it, amazed at the thought that being caned would ever be something Harry found comforting.

The thud is switched with a different texture that feels softer but definitely snappier. The switch in sensation is welcomed rather than shied away from and Harry sighs as he decides he really loves his feet being caned.

Harry idly wonders if Louis left any sort of music off specifically so Harry could hear the sounds of the cane whipping through the air and landing on his body. If so, he will sing praises to Louis all night for it because it's a beautiful noise he never knew he needed in his life until now.

Another loud slices through the air, but when it snaps against Harry's feet, there's a loud crack that he hadn't previously heard.

"Fuck." Louis swears under his breath and Harry stiffens immediately. "What's your color?"

"Green?" Harry wonders if he should start panicking yet.

"Perfect." Louis says, demeanor of self-assurance back up instantly.

Harry wonders if he misinterpreted Louis' reaction. Maybe he was just really pleased with Harry. It was a good swearing, Harry decides.

"Between one and twenty, choose how many more hits you want." The wood of the thicker cane taps up and down his thighs again.

"20 please." Harry says easily.

It's hardly a second later when a strong thud hits right against his sweet spot, making him moan.

"Count down for me baby." Louis instructs.

Count down. Backwards. From 20. Harry can do that. He can.

"20." He says for the first one Louis already did.

Three moderate hits to his thighs, four where his butt meets his thighs, and then stroke number 13 brings a strong hit to his back that Harry feels like he's being massaged again more than anything.

A slow switch between shoulder blades and a quick snappier one to his ass and Harry is at six. The cane whistles through the air again and lands between his butt and thighs.

"Six." Harry intakes a breath because he does _not_ want this to be over yet. It's too relaxing and he wants to be better for Louis. Better than Louis expects him to be. He wants to make Louis' night perfect and he loves letting Louis cane him. "Harder please."

"Sorry?" Louis pauses.

"Harder." Harry repeats. "Please?"

Louis lands a particularly snappy blow to his ass and Harry clenches his teeth.

Yes, it was harder, but not the _right_ kind of harder. "Five. Harder please."

Louis repeats the action on his back though.

Harry bites his lip. "Four. _Harder_ please."

"I'm not going to give you more than you can take." Louis follows his words with a strong hit to the other side of his back.

"Three. I can take it please." Harry tries not to sound desperate.

A nice, blunt force hits the globes of his ass and is followed by a sting that he didn't anticipate.

"Two." Harry still wants more though. He doesn't want it to end. "More please."

"What's your color?" Louis sounds a little out of breath.

"Green." Harry says without a hint of hesitation. "I can take more."

"We're only doing one more." Louis says firmly.

"Please?" Harry tries again.

Louis smacks the back of his thighs and Harry would hardly classify it as 'moderate,' but he feels his skin stretch and a nagging sensation where the previous hit had landed.

"One." He says with frustrating, _needing_ more from Louis. "More, _please_."

"Get on your knees." Louis commands.

Harry instantly wiggles and fumbles, his skin stretching in every which way and protesting at the disturbance. The spreader bar makes it incredibly difficult to do, but he manages anyway. His shoulders strain and his knees pop after not having moved their position for so long. He almost feels lightheaded at the suddenness of it all.

He lets the headboard hold his weight though as he lays into the arm binders and the heaviness of his wrists uselessly pull downward at the cuffs.

"Keep your eyes closed." There's a loud noise and the snick of a bottle and Harry can't process everything at once, but he knows Louis is between his legs and running his hands over Harry's ass and it feels like something from Antarctica is feeling him up.

"'S that-" he was _going_ to ask if Louis was holding ice to his ass, but then realizes it's just Louis' fingers because shortly after, he feels them prodding at his rim. Or maybe one hand has ice and the other does not. Or maybe his ass is really hot and Louis' hands are normal temperature. Or maybe Harry should just stop thinking because he isn't really thinking too clearly.

"What's that?" Louis asks.

"Green." Harry responds immediately, though he feels like that wasn't the right answer. It doesn't matter.

It especially doesn't matter now that Louis' fingers have breached and are doing things he's never felt before because all his other memories of fingering himself or Louis fingering him are not present at the moment.

It's frustrating because Harry feels like he's fighting to get somewhere. Fighting and close, and he doesn't know what he needs, other than _more_ from Louis. He wouldn't even know how to express it if he tried.

He wonders if he needs to feel hurt. He doesn't know if caning is meant to physically hurt, but it didn't to Harry. So maybe it's the punishment factor that he's missing out on. The- what did Louis call it?- mental masochism. Maybe that's the more he's craving.

"I'm going to fuck you now, okay baby?" Louis says from behind him.

And Jesus, where has Harry been? Why didn't he see this coming? Why was he unprepared? Why is this so easy? Why does Harry hardly notice it happening? Why does it feel so different?

"Okay baby?" Louis pushes for a response from Harry, giving him a light slap to the side of his thigh.

Harry nods and verbalizes his answer. "Green. Hard please."

He feels Louis place a hand on the lower muscle of Harry's back and then feels Louis' cock push at his rim. Harry doesn't even take a breath to anticipate it. Just lets it happen easily and smoothly. So smoothly that Harry almost doesn't believe this is what it feels like to get fucked because it sure as hell never felt like this with Grady.

With every thrust, Louis' hip bones pound against Harry's ass and he can feel his own skin burn hotter. With every thrust, Harry can't decide if he's getting closer or farther from the intangible thing he's chasing after.

"Wish you could see yourself, Jesus Christ. Harry you look fucking destroyed." Louis pinches at the back of his thigh, shooting a hot pain through his body.

Pain. There's a lot of pain coming from his thighs. Coming from his ass. Coming from his feet. Coming from the abused muscles in his shoulders that he now relies on to hold him up.

He sags against his arm restraints and handcuffs some more, waiting for the pain to pass, but it doesn't. The heat fills up his entire body and he wonders briefly if this is what burning to death feels like.

"It's hot." Harry says uselessly to nobody but himself.

"Yeah, you're on fire baby." Louis runs a hand up the length of his back to tap on the previously caned spots. "You're hard too. You ready for a release?"

Hard. Hard. The word floats around Harry's head until.

Yes. Hard. Harry didn't even fucking realize he was hard. He wonders how long his cock has been like that.

And it manifests as the answer. The answer to take him from the pain to pleasure. To turn the heat into something that will give him relief.

"Yes. Please, please, please." Harry rushes out now that he has a newfound goal.

Louis' hand snakes around to start pulling at Harry's cock. Deft hands that feel incredible. The yanking gives a stark contrast to the pain that still is shooting off like fireworks every time Louis' hips meet Harry's ass.

It feels like a battle. The pain versus the pleasure. Each side playing a tug-of-war and challenging the other to take it to the next level. It builds and builds and builds until Harry feels like he might physically disintegrate into a pile of ashes.

He gasps, his orgasm hitting him like napalm. He hardly registers Louis coming in him because all he can feel is the sweat dripping in his leather arm cuffs. Dripping from his face and the nape of his neck. Dripping from everywhere. Harry is the tangible version of sweat.

He suddenly feels his arms drop with a thud onto the bed, not realizing that Louis had uncuffed him. He face-plants into the sheets, feeling a small puddle of sweat there. Then the arm restraints come off and Harry's elbows still feel locked in the position anyway, so he keeps his arms exactly as they are.

"You can close your legs baby. I took the bar off a long time ago. You did so good." The words echo in his head for a moment before he realizes Louis is speaking to him.

Spreader bar. It's gone.

Harry wiggles his ankles, and he'll be damned. When did that get removed?

He keeps his legs spread in the exact distance anyway.

" _Harry_." Louis emphasizes.

"Yes sir?" Harry emphasizes.

"What's your color?" Louis stresses.

"Green." Harry remembers that much. Green is his friend. Green is good. Harry loves green.

"I need you to lay down baby." Louis softly rubs Harry's back.

Harry nods and slowly lets himself fall stomach-first onto the bed again. He expects to feel his own come and sweat, but discovers that it's a fresh linen under him. He relaxes onto it.

"I'm putting ice packs on you okay? You're going to get cold, and when you do, I need you to tell me." Louis places ice packs wrapped in soft towels against the soles of each of Harry's feet, on his thighs and butt, and on his shoulders as Harry nods.

"Keep your eyes closed and just relax. I'm not going anywhere okay? I'm right here for you. Just for you baby. You did so good. You're so fucking amazing." Louis rubs his arms, reminding Harry that they're no longer trapped in leather.

He experimentally bends his elbows, feeling like it's the first time they've moved in a century. He kinks his wrists and feels sore. He rolls his shoulders a little and feels sore. He feels sore.

He whimpers a little, feeling like his arms are still stuck above his head. "I can't move them."

"Yes you can love. I'll help you." Louis gently helps Harry swivel his arms and place them by his side.

Harry would be so lost without Louis. He's so glad he has Louis.

The coldness of the ice packs starts to seep through the towels and he can feel the clash of temperature rage between his skin and the ice. It's a couple more minutes of gentle strokes and soft words from Louis when his body involuntarily shivers and then he feels like he's jumped head first into the Norwegian Sea.

"Cold." Harry says pitifully.

Louis pulls the ice packs off and wraps him in a thick blanket instead. Then he feels the weight give way to the rest of Louis' body and an arm wraps around his waist. "You're so beautiful. Did so fucking well, I can't even tell you how proud I am of you."

Harry can feel the tickle of Louis' breath against his nose and knows Louis is right there next to him. "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Yeah baby. Take it slow." Louis says softly.

Harry blinks with his eyes shut a couple times before slowly cracking them to let some light in. It floods his vision like he's just emerged from a cave after 20 years in the dark. Everything is blurry until he blinks them open the rest of the way and his eyes go into focus.

He feels jolted back into reality and his heart thuds quicker at his surroundings. Louis is right there though, and that makes it all okay. "What happened?"

"You take canings really fucking well. How are you feeling?" Louis strokes over Harry's cheekbone with his thumb.

Harry doesn't even know how to put into words everything he's feeling. It would probably take days to comprehend, then communicate and get answers for everything he's feeling.

"Overwhelmed." Harry says nervously.

"You don't have to think about it. We can just go to sleep." Louis reassures. "Does that sound good to you?"

Harry nods, glad that sleeping is an option.

"Alright. I got you babe." Louis stands up and Harry rolls on his side to get up, but finds that Louis scoops him up instead.

Harry knows that Louis is strong. Knows he works out and is fit. But if you asked him on any other day if he thought Louis could pick him up, Harry probably would have said no.

Well, he probably would have said yes, and secretly thought no. But that's beside the point.

In any case, it's pleasantly warming that Harry can wrap his straining arms around Louis' neck and let himself get whisked off to Louis' bedroom. He doesn't remember if he falls asleep before hitting the sheets or after.

~~~

**/Sneak Peek for Next Update/**

"Do you feel destressed?"  Harry nuzzles into his chest more.

"So destressed that I forgot I was even in another country 24 hours ago."  Louis kisses the top of Harry's head because it's true.

"Good."  Harry closes his eyes to rest.

~~~


	32. Chapter 32

 

A/N: I've had a couple requests so far to add in some flashbacks of Louis in scenes with his past subs. So I'll ask the rest of you to comment yey or ney to let me know your guys' opinion :)

Dedicated to [pattycake18](https://www.wattpad.com/user/pattycake18)

~~~ 

L

**To Niall: Harry’s not coming in today.**

**To Zayn: I won’t be in the office today.**

Louis stares at his ceiling while he waits for Harry to wake up.

9:01am

If Louis were a meaner person, he would give Harry shit for saying he only needed six hours of sleep.  But he’s not.  Not to Harry.  He understands that last night took a _lot_ more out of Harry than either of them anticipated.

So he lets Harry sleep and sleep and sleep and doesn’t dare move because he needs to be here the moment Harry wakes up.  Since he fell asleep shortly after the scene and not even 100 percent lucid, he’ll need to continue after care this morning. 

Not that he wouldn’t normally.  But Harry will wake up needing a lot more than a couple texts or phone calls of reassurance from Louis. 

He really has to pee though.  And he’s worried about Harry’s bruises.  And he’s worried about Harry waking up and being in pain since he wasn’t able to get him to take some pain killers before bed.

Harry still has _no_ clue how hard he was taking it last night.  _Especially_ for a first time sub.  Louis just.  Was blown away.

He has about a hundred questions for Harry though.  He needs to make sure they’re both on the same page and needs to make sure he was reading all the signals right.  Needs to make sure Harry can get out of bed and walk.

So he turns on his side to stare at the wall with two giant posters of himself on two different covers of TIME and tries to go to sleep again.

~~~

It’s nearing noon and Louis is drumming his fingers on his phone while he waits for Zayn to forward him a couple of requested emails since he found out someone hacked their Spanish webpage and left malicious code behind for his programming team to fix. 

He’s still lying in bed with Harry sound asleep next to him, and the only thing engaging enough to take his mind off his bladder is work.  So he’s going to fucking work, elsewise he’ll explode.

He’s also marginally cracked the shades in the window, allowing some natural light into the room, praying it might be something to gently rouse Harry from his sleep.

As soon as his inbox floods with distractions, his fingers furiously type away and he forgets why he needed them sent to him in the first place.

45 minutes later is when Harry shifts and moans.

Louis sends the half written email to Zayn, letting him take care of the rest of it, and puts his phone onto his nightstand.

“Baby are you awake?”  He says as softly as he can.

Harry gives him a short moan this time, and Louis takes it as a yes.

“I’ll be right back okay?  Give me two minutes.”  Louis waits for another sound- a small grunt this time- and then books it to the bathroom. 

After he’s relieved himself, he quickly brushes his teeth, then goes into the kitchen to get a water bottle and pain meds. 

When he gets back, Harry’s chest shows that he’s breathing lighter and probably trying to wake up.  “I need you to take some pills for me.  Can you do that?”

Harry’s eyes open like it’s the most difficult thing he’ll ever have to do in his life and nods.

Louis sits down by him and offers to put the pills in his mouth for him.  He knows Harry’s arms will be sore today too.  Harry opens his mouth for it, then Louis sticks the straw in until Harry’s swallowed.

“How are you feeling?”  Louis sets the water off to the side.  He needs to get ice on his bruises, but doesn’t want to freak Harry out by doing everything at once.

“Tired.”  Harry whispers.

“You slept for a long time.”  Louis smiles softly.

“Shit.”  Harry closes his eyes again.

Louis holds him down to the bed when he tries to move.  “It’s okay.  You need to recover.  I’m going to be here with you all day too, okay?”

Harry doesn’t even fight it, which either attests to how truly exhausted he is, or fantastic luck from the universe in not having anything urgent that pulls him to work.

Louis places a hand softly on Harry’s back to feel that his skin is still burning up.  “I’m going to get some more ice for you, alright?  Then I’m going to run a bath for both of us.”

Harry gives a non-committal grunt and Louis walks into his giant white marble bathroom and gets the bathtub to start filling.  Then it’s to the kitchen to get all the same ice packs from the freezer and a couple small baggies of ice.  As he piles them on, he remembers Harry not even responding last night when he said he was going out to get them.  He was definitely out of it.

Back in the bedroom, he nudges Harry to roll onto his stomach and gently pulls the duvet down to expose his back.  Louis assess the damage.  His back has precisely laid, dark red cane marks parallel to his spine on either side- neither too close to the bone, nor too close to the shoulder blades.  He sets ice packs on either side.

Harry’s wrists are a deep purple, which Louis half expected to happen.  He knows out of everything last night, his wrists would be the very last thing that he would devote any mental capacity towards.  The fur lining that Louis put around the metal prevented it from breaking the skin though.  He’ll have to keep those on there. 

He sets small bags on each wrist and looks to his ass next.

Louis closes his eyes in disappointment of himself before looking again at where he broke the skin.  He knew.  He _knew_ he was going to break the skin if he wasn’t extremely fucking careful, just because of how long and hard they had gone at it.  But Harry kept asking for harder, and Louis did his best to compromise by hitting where the least damage looked like it was.  But regardless, the stretching of the skin ended up splitting about two inches above where he even landed the cane.

He puts a larger ice pack to cover the raised purple and black welts on Harry’s ass.  He needs to fucking listen to himself next time. 

His thighs are dark red and purple too.  Having taken a good beating, but nowhere near as severe as his butt, he places another large ice pack over both of them. 

He puts the duvet over Harry’s back again to somewhat keep him warm while the ice cools his bruises down, and moves to his feet. 

Which, Louis was surprised at last night.  Minus the sub with a foot fetish, his other subs were usually extremely averse to their feet being touched at _all_.  But Harry took the bastinado like a fucking champ.  Too well, as a matter of fact.

Louis assumes it must be the fact that Harry wore boots from the moment he was born till he moved to New York, but Harry has some of the thickest soles he’s ever whipped.  Which, he did.  Whip.

After several hits with the thick cane that increased in severity with next to no reaction from Harry, Louis switched to his thinner, rattan cane, that causes a sensation much closer to what whipping feels like versus caning. 

And Harry hardly reacted to that either. 

And then Louis fucking broke his rattan cane.

Louis has never had his rattans break before, but it fucking broke while he was whipping Harry’s feet.

He sees the marks on Harry’s soles, where the thick wood bruised deeper, and the rattan stung lighter.  He places the small baggies of ice on them, indebted to himself that he’s always firmly stuck to his ‘no bamboo canes’ rules, otherwise he could have caused serious damage by cutting open skin that bamboo splinting is notorious for.

“What happened?”  Harry asks.

Louis puts the blanket over Harry’s feet.  “What do you remember?”

Harry hums for a moment.  “A massage.  Then… then being bound.  And being caned.  Then I think you said you fucked me.”

Louis quirks an eyebrow.  “‘You think I said?’”

“You didn’t?”  One of Harry’s eyes pops open.

Louis sits on the bed and lets one leg hang over the edge.  “No, I did.  Tell me what was going on in your mind.”

“When?”  Harry asks.

“Before and as I started to fuck you.”  Louis clarifies- 87 percent sure that he knows the answer already, but wanting to hear what was going on in Harry’s mind.

“Well.”  Harry starts off slowly.  “I didn’t want you to stop with the cane.  But you did, and that was… frustrating?  I think.  I don’t know if that makes any sense.  And then I didn’t really feel what was going on, almost like it wasn’t happening.”  Harry pauses.  “It was good though.  It felt really, really, really good.  It wasn’t bad.  It just… I wanted more though and I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“When you say ‘more,’ do you mean more pain or more pleasure?”  Louis patiently asks.

“Neither I don’t think.”  Harry says.  “I don’t know what I wanted.”

“Remember our talk a while back about adrenaline and endorphins and subspace?”  Louis asks, then continues on, knowing that Harry remembers everything apparently.  “The... frustration, that you were experiencing last night was your body trying to decide if you wanted to take a right turn or a left.  If you wanted to go into subspace or have an orgasm.  You were actively trying to make a decision and it, presumably, could have been the other route had I kept caning you.”

“Why didn’t you?”  Harry asks, both eyes open and watching Louis now.

“Because it was time to wind the scene down.  We had gone for a long time and your skin wouldn’t have been able to keep up with what you mentally desired.”  Louis says.

“You pinched my thigh.”  Harry states.

“I did.”  Louis finds it interesting that Harry remembers that small detail.

“It hurt really bad and I don’t know why.  And then it was like I could feel everything again.”  Harry says.

“So that was your body switching gears to the orgasm route.”  Louis vividly remembers Harry pointing out that it was hot shortly after, and then getting hard.

“Did I do bad?”  Harry takes hit bottom lip between his teeth.

“No baby.  You did fucking phenomenal.”  Louis brushes a hair from off his forehead.  “Sounds like the bath is nearly ready.  Do you want to try and walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

“I can walk.”  Harry tries pushing himself up and collapses back down onto the mattress. 

“I got you babe.”  Louis scoops Harry up in his arms, Harry groaning with every movement.

“Why do I hurt?  I’ve been trampled by cows and it didn’t hurt this badly.”  Harry says into Louis’ shoulder.

“Because you slept for almost 12 hours and the lactic acid had a lot of time to build up.”  Louis sits at the edge of the tub, still holding Harry and careful not to let his bum rub against his thighs so he doesn’t hurt him.  “Dip your toe in and tell me how the temperature is.”

Harry slowly stretches his foot down.  “Feels good.  Warm.”

“Take it easy.”  Louis helps Harry slither into the bath.

“My ass feels like it’s being stung by a grist of bees.”  Harry says as he submerges his waist.

Louis grimaces.  “Yeah, Haz… I broke your skin.  I’m so sorry.”

“What?”  Harry hisses when the water touches his shoulder blades.

“It’s part of the reason I didn’t keep going.  Your skin split towards the end.  So after we get you out of the bath, I need to put some balm on it and butterfly bandage it.”  Louis slips into the tub next to Harry, ignoring the reflection of his wilting quiff in the mirror across the room.

Harry lays his head down on the side of the tub, which Louis knows can’t be comfortable.

“Come here baby.”  Louis pulls Harry into his lap and lets Harry rest his head on his chest.  “Thank you so much for last night.”

“Do you feel destressed?”  Harry nuzzles into his chest more.

“So destressed that I forgot I was even in another country 24 hours ago.”  Louis kisses the top of Harry’s head because it’s true.

“Good.”  Harry closes his eyes to rest.

Louis lets him until he thinks Harry might actually be falling asleep again.  Which he doesn’t want to let him do because Harry needs to walk around for a minute and eat.

“Baby, sit up for me.  I’m going to rinse you off.”  Louis rubs up and down Harry’s wet arm.

“Kay.”  It looks like it costs Harry everything in the world to make himself sit upright.

Louis cleans him slowly and softly, then quickly cleans himself and gets out of the tub.  “Come on love.  Come to the kitchen with me.”  He holds out a hand to help Harry up.

Harry braces himself on the edge and takes Louis’ hand with his other one and struggles to stand up.  Louis supports most of his weight and wraps him in a fluffy towel.

“Standing is hard.”  Harry leans into Louis as Louis pats him dry.

“Wait till you try sitting.”  Louis makes a face to himself. 

He gets Harry into a silky white robe and puts on his own scarlet one as they make their way into the kitchen.

Louis makes them eggs and bacon with lots of salt and make Harry drink three glasses of water and an iced tea.  He’s glad he had Zayn get another 24 pack at the store yesterday.

Harry sits slowly and with everything playing out on his face.  “Normally I’m not such a pussy.”  He says, addressing his state of pain.

Louis frowns.  “Normally you don’t get caned for an hour.  And normally it’s not good practice to put yourself down.”

Harry bites his lip without responding and tries sitting up a little straighter.

When Harry finishes eating, Louis lets him clear the plates, and strokes at his nonexistent facial hair as Harry limps to and from the sink.  He loves the look of Harry feeling everything that Louis’ done to him.

“I’ll be right back baby.  I just remembered I brought some things home for you.”  Louis stands up.

“What?”  Harry cranes his neck enough to look over his shoulder.

“Stay here.”  Louis walks into his room where he stored Harry’s things. 

He _may_ have gone to a fashion show or two on his down time to keep up with what is new in the industry.  He also maybe recruited one of the designers to make some mock ups for the new company products he wants to unfold in the next year.

Louis just likes keeping up to date on fashion.  Doesn’t mean he won’t still rock his black attire and studded belt from time to time.  But everything he wears until then generally falls under the umbrella of high fashion.

So he grabs the garment bag and a sack from his walk-in closet and brings them into the kitchen.  Harry’s finished cleaning the table and dishes and gets an iced tea from the fridge.  He waits patiently as Louis sets the sack on the table and hangs the garment bag from a cabinet to unzip it.

Harry steps closer.  “What is it?”

“It’s João Pimenta.  He’s a Brazilian designer.  This is one of the suits for his winter collection.”  Louis says, carefully pulling the edges of the hanger out of the bag so Harry can see it better.

“It’s a suit?”  Harry asks.

Louis smiles.  “Yes it’s a suit.  And I got the baby blue silk shirt that the model wore too.”

“Try it on!  I want to see it on you.”  Harry looks excitedly at Louis.

Louis quirks an eyebrow at Harry.  “I bought this for you baby.”

Harry blinks a few times then looks from the suit to Louis.  “For me?”

“Yes.”  Louis reaches up to thumb at Harry’s jawline.  “Couldn’t stop thinking of you every waking moment in Brazil.  When I was at the fashion show I couldn’t help but picture you in this.”  He traces the jut of Harry’s collarbone.  “Seemed like just the right fit and style for you.”

Harry looks down at his feet, then quickly back up to Louis.  “Thank you so much.  I hope I don’t wreck the look.”

“You’re what will make the look.  Right now, it’s just a bunch of threads hanging from some wood.”  Louis flicks the hanger.  “But when it’s on you.”  He threads his fingers with Harry’s.  “That’s what will make it look beautiful.”

“I don’t deserve this.”  Harry bites his lip.

“You deserve it because I say you do.”  Louis says firmly.  “Understood?”

Harry nods quickly.

“Go open your other present now.”  Louis nods towards the table.

Harry opens his mouth, then shuts it and walks over to the brown sack.  He pulls out the bag of loose leaf tea.

“Yerba Mate?”  Harry pronounces incorrectly from off the bag.

“It’s a popular South American tea.  However, in Brazil, they drink it cold and oftentimes sweetened.”  Louis tells him.

“Brazilian iced tea then?”  Harry looks up and his face slices into a smile.

“Precisely.”  Louis says, very much pleased.

Harry fumbles to open the bag and then looks inside, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks at the contents.  “How… what?”

“What?”  Louis asks.

“You drink this?”  Harry pinches some of the loose leaves and inspects them closer.

Louis chuckles.  “It’s loose leaf.  So you either need to use the filtered straw or a strainer of some sort.  It’s really easy to make cold though.”

“Will you show me how?”  Harry looks excited all over again.

“Of course.”  Louis pulls the rest of the Yerba Mate from the sack and grabs the gourd underneath.  “Traditionally, it’s drunk from a gourd with the bombilla.”  Louis displays the stainless steel straw like Vanna White. 

Harry nods with a smile, seemingly enjoying the information and the show. 

“Fill the gourd halfway full of leaves.”  Louis uses his fingers to pinch the amount in.  “Then place a hand over the opening so you can gently shake the Mate around and get any powder from the bottom to blend evenly with the rest of the mix.”  He follows his words with a few gentle flicks of the wrist.

“Get a glass of cold water for me, will you babe?”  Louis requests.

Harry goes immediately to the cabinet holding the glasses and fills one with water.  He holds it out expectantly for Louis to take.

“You do it.”  Louis passes him the gourd.  “Just pour it in slowly.”

Every ounce of concentration gathers on Harry’s face as he carefully fills the gourd.  “Now what?”

“Try it.”  Louis smirks.  “Then we’ll add some sugar.”

Harry’s eyes flick from the gourd to Louis, then he takes the bombilla between his lips.  It’s obvious the second the tea hits his tongue because he coughs and holds the offending drink away from his body.

Louis laughs as Harry looks around in search of something to wash the taste out.

“There’s milk in the fridge.”  Louis takes the gourd as Harry races for the fridge and chugs the milk.

Louis pulls out his sugar and adds a good 25 grams or so into the gourd since he assumes that’s how much Harry’s average bottle of iced has in it.  He sips it to test and winces.  Maybe he made it too sugary.

“Here, try this.  Tell me if I put too much in.”  Louis gives the Mate back to Harry who has since put the remaining half gallon of milk back into the fridge.

Harry looks at it like it might bite him, but tries it anyway.  This time though, Louis knows he likes the taste by the instant relaxing of his shoulders.  He smiles.  “I love it.”

“Good.”  Louis pecks him on the cheek.  “You can use the same tea leaves for about 10 cups or so of tea, so don’t just throw it out if you plan on drinking more.”

“This is a brilliant invention.”  Harry grins through drinking more of the tea.

“It is.”  Louis claps his hands together.  “Now then.  Let’s get some more ice on you; and how does spending some time in the theatre room with lots of blankets and good films sound to you?”

Harry’s eyes go wide.  “Fuck!  I forgot about work!” 

Harry nearly gallops back into Louis’ bedroom, and Louis thinks he’s never seen Harry move quite that fast.

He walks leisurely to his door jamb.  “Baby, you have the day off.  I let Niall know.”

“What?”  Harry turns around to face Louis.  “Niall?”

Ah fuck.  He knew this would happen.  He doesn’t worry though, it’s easy enough to cover.  “Yeah, the fucker from the mixer?  I exchanged numbers with him.  Just said I had you otherwise occupied.”

“He knows we’re together?”  Harry asks, panic rising in his voice.

Fuck.  Right.  Harry doesn’t want anyone knowing about them.  “Yeah.  You know.  CEO stuff.  Nothing out of the ordinary seeing as we’re the largest competing companies in the industry.”  He lies easily.

“Oh.”  Harry instantly deflates.  “Okay.  Good.”

It stabs Louis a little more than he would care to admit, but he brushes it aside because that’s an issue for a different day.  “Let’s get some ice on you then.”

Harry nods.  “And a movie?”

“However many movies you want.”  Louis reassures.

And with that, it’s off to the theatre room.

~~~


	33. Chapter 33

 

~~~  
  
H

It's eight hours of Western movies later and lots of cat naps that Harry finds himself sitting across from Louis with nothing but a Monopoly board between them.

"Boardwalk for me please."  Louis tosses a golden bill at Harry.

"Whyyyyyy do I have to be the banker?"  Harry puts it in the plastic tray and gives Louis a blue bill in return.

"Because I'm trying to play a fair game here."  Louis reaches over and grabs the highest priced property.  "Every time I'm banker, I steal when no ones looking."

"Well you're obviously gonna win anyways."  Harry says proudly as he rolls the die.

"That's because I always win."  Louis responds with the kind of surety that Harry admires him for.

"You have... how many monopolies now?"  Harry squints at his own small pile of properties and over at Louis' legion of cards.

"Seven because you've just landed on Marvin Gardens, don't have enough to pay for the hoteled rent, and have to sell your orange property." Louis flips Harry's cards over. "I'm about to roll and have a high chance of landing on it, allowing me to complete my set and-"

"Okay, okay I get it."  Harry playfully throws the rest of his money and properties at Louis.  "You've monopolized me."

"Come here baby."  Louis shoves the board to the side and pats his lap.

Harry crawls over and lays his head in Louis' lap.

Louis threads his fingers through his curls.  "Nobody has ownership over you but yourself."

Harry flicks his eyes upward to meet his Dom's.  "Except for you. You kind of basically do."

Louis starts shaking his head, but Harry interrupts before he can continue.  "But I like it- I'm really glad.  I want you to own me.  I trust you to."

"Baby, you have an identity outside of our relationship. Nobody can own your mind and soul."  Louis counters.

"Well what about you?"  Harry asks.

Louis looks confused, so Harry elaborates.

"Your business.  You don't really have an identity outside of it.  You live and breathe it."  Harry's eyes flick over to Louis' phone that has emails opened on it.  "It consumes your mind and soul."

"I-"  Louis starts, then stops.  "I don't want it to be like that though.  I mean, I do- but I don't."

"What do you mean?"  Harry noses into the side of Louis' thigh.

"I mean I have a lot of reasons why I want to be successful.  I don't want to stop until I've reached the top and then set the bar higher than anyone has ever reached before.  But I resent it at the same time because it doesn't allow me to have the kind of relationship I want."  Louis moves to massaging Harry's neck.

"What kind of relationship do you want?"  He asks, ready to take mental notes and act on them immediately to be everything Louis could ever wish for.

"One that I can be invested in."  Louis says simply.  "But I can't be 110 percent invested in both my business and a relationship.  It makes me scared of failure because I have to sacrifice one for the other and I feel like I'm damned with either choice I make."

Harry feels warm with the way Louis' voice has softened.  The way it feels when Louis opens up about his insecurities to him.  "Well I think you're doing amazing at both right now."  He sighs.

Louis gives himself a look that Harry can't decipher, but he decides to not stress on it because he feels wonderful and Louis is playing with his hair.  With his head snuggled into Louis' lap, he doesn't think he's ever felt this tired or this cared for in his life.

On the farm when he was sick, the most Harry got was a half day of rest. He's bucked hay and fixed fences with a fever of 110. The work never stopped unless Harry did, and then the farm stopped. There wasn't money to hire help, especially when Harry was capable of doing almost everything by himself. There certainly wasn't any sympathy from anyone except maybe a can of chicken noodle soup warmed up from his mom and some Nyquil from Mona.

Harry was a grown ass man who could take care of himself. And for the first time in his life, he's found that it's really nice to let someone else take care of him.

"Going to sleep again baby?" Louis' fingers haven't left Harry's hair yet.

He shakes his head. "But no more ice please."

"Baby we have to. Just till the end of the day at least. Your skin already looks so much better." Louis thumbs at the bruises between his shoulder blades.

"I don't want to." Harry is sick of being cold. He likes being warm. And snuggled into Louis.

Louis' voice goes sterner though and Harry knows regardless of what he says next, Harry will end up doing exactly as Louis wishes. "Does it sound like I'm giving you the option to refuse?"

"No sir." Harry responds because he likes the way it makes him feel inferior.

"Then why aren't you laying on your stomach already?" Louis gets Harry to move without much more than the implication of Harry being slow to listen to Louis.

Louis leaves him in the theatre room to undress himself while he waits for Louis to retrieve the ice. He sighs into the blanket that still smells like Louis and feels infinitely satisfied with life. More satisfied than he thinks he's ever felt before.

Harry loves being with Louis. Loves being his submissive and letting Louis make him feel this way. He hopes he can give back to Louis everything that Louis gives to him.

Louis returns and Harry lies still as the freezer packs get arranged on his welts again.

"What color are they?" Harry cranes his head to look up at Louis.

"They're all different according to how many hits and how hard they were in each area." Louis carefully sets the ice to stay on the bottoms of Harry's feet.

"What color is my ass then?" The most Harry can see are dark crimson parallel lines that start precisely two inches below his tailbone.

"Still black where the skin broke." Louis' face twitches in a way that Harry has come to associate with distaste for himself. "Everywhere else is between a dark purple and red."

"Why didn't you go higher?" Harry wonders.

"To give your tailbone proper clearance." Louis covers him in a couple blankets. "I feel confident with the space I allow myself from your coccyx. Other people feel comfortable with less space, others more. It can vary from Dom to Dom."

"You could hit me higher if you wanted." Harry offers, hoping if he has more skin to offer, then he can have longer scenes that make them both happier.

"Harry, I have limits too. As you know, I'm fallible and I take every precaution to not- God forbid- paralyze you for life because my ego thinks I'm capable of something I'm not." Louis says.

Harry sighs, not having thought of that. "I just wish we could have gone longer."

"Baby, we were playing for a while. Scenes can completely warp your sense of time which is why it's up to me to keep track of it." Louis sits back down and pulls Harry's head into his lap again.

"Can we do another one tonight?" He asks, eagerly.

Louis seems to mull the thought through his brain for a minute. "Normally pleasure scenes involve a lot of physical activity, which no- we cannot do because you're still healing."

"Then punish me." He instantly offers up.

"You have no reason to be punished and you've already used your free punishment for the month. Also I'm trepidant to put you through more psychological stress than you're already under." Louis says.

"I'm not stressed. Honestly." Harry brings up his thoughts from just moments ago. "I was just thinking how I've never felt so content and happy."

"Like I said." Louis reiterates resolutely. "I don't feel comfortable pushing your psychological limits, as this is all new for you."

Harry hates himself a little for being new to this. He hates himself for being new to everything. It's the biggest setback in his life right now. New city, new house, new job, new boyfriend, new lifestyle.

"When can we do one again then?" Harry decides to ask. If he has a date in mind, it will at least make the time in between more bearable.

"Like. I. Said." Louis clips. "We won't be doing scenes while you're still healing."

Harry huffs in frustration, pissed that he's stuck on his stomach with ice on his back and unable to do what he wants. He can't move because Louis' told him not to. He can't get warm because Louis is turning him into a fucking snowman. He can't have sex because Louis says so.

"That's not really fair." He says.

"Sweetie." Louis says anything but sweetly. "Go read our contract and you'll find that it's completely fair."

Harry thought he hated himself for being new at things. But he thinks he hates himself more for not thinking of this. Different sections pop up in his brain. 'Exchange of power,' 'Will submit to care that the Dominant sees fit,' 'Obeys the Dominant in all things,' 'Property of the Dominant.'

Louis owns Harry's ass. It's written there in about five different ways and Harry agreed to it.

"I want to negotiate the terms." Harry says again since that line worked for him last time.

"Non-negotiable." Louis says shortly. "I will never negotiate in terms to your mental and physical health and safety."

Harry runs his brains in circles like a mad bull trying to find a fucking loophole. He wants... what does he even want? He wants more from Louis. He wants the time and attention that he had from Louis last night. The euphoria of adrenaline and trust. The feeling of Louis dominating Harry and taking charge of him physically.

Kind of like how Grady did with him. Only it's Louis. So it's like, a thousand and a hundred million times better.

He thinks through ways he's gotten what he's wanted from Louis before. Last night was using skills he learned from books. What about before that though? Before Harry started reading about professional manipulation?

He jogs backwards to a similar memory. When Harry determined he needed to piss Louis off and stole the Vander Tech acquisition. It had worked. Louis talked to him and punished him and it was a fucking fantastic night.

He has to piss Louis off again.

But not by buying another company, for he told Louis he wouldn't do that to him anymore. He wonders if calling Grady would piss Louis off. But again, no. He told Louis he wouldn't do that either.

He thinks about Louis' reds and if he could unethically use one of them to his advantage. He doesn't want to do anything to _hurt_ Louis emotionally because he knows that Louis is already on thin ice with feeling like a good Dom. So maybe something physically?

That's when part of a past conversation comes back to him.

_'I will very unkindly lose my shit if you slap me.'_

So, yes, it was technically one of the things Louis told Harry as being one of his reds. But. Why? And it's not like Harry would full on _assault_ Louis. Just maybe... a small something to get his attention. Grady and he did it all the time with each other. Surely that won't crumble the terms of their contract? 'Unkindly losing his shit' is different than the dissolution of the contract.

Harry's heart thrums faster because _what would he do_ if he slapped him? Maybe all the over caution of no punishments would be thrown out the window. Maybe he would beat up Harry. Maybe he would choke him. Maybe he would fuck him.

His mind is made up before he can talk himself out of it and he sits up so quickly that the ice packs slide off his back. "Everything is negotiable." He continues as a response to Louis' statement.

And Louis. He places his hands on Harry's shoulders to try and ease him back down. "No it's not. And lay back down baby. You need to rest."

"No." Harry bats Louis' hands off his shoulders belligerently, hoping that Louis keeps coming at him.

"Harry, I won't ask you twice. You're being unreasonable." Louis doesn't make any move to place his hands on Harry again.

Harry huffs in frustration and surges forward to kiss Louis headily. Louis is, very much, taken off guard by the action and places his hands on Harry's hips.

Harry knocks them away, wanting to up the ante more.

Louis firmly holds onto Harry's arms and pulls him off. "Haz you're going to hurt yourself. _Stop_."

"You stop." Harry argues petulantly and straddles Louis' lap to kiss him more.

Then, it's opportune. Louis' hands continually try coming up to nudge Harry off of him and Harry combats it every time until they're doing a half-assed cat fight that Harry escalates it to accidentally backhanding Louis lightly.

He tries to act a little surprised at it and pulls away to wait for Louis' response.

"Did you just. Fucking. _Slap_ me?" Louis' voice is darker than Harry ever would have anticipated and he grips both of Harry's already bruised wrists tightly.

Harry's heart pounds in his ears as his blood pulses through his body. He keeps his face stoic with a touch of bitchy, but doesn't respond. He knows by not speaking, it will answer the question for him. He has Louis' attention and a shit ton of adrenaline pumping through his veins and he doesn't fucking regret doing it.

"Get. Out." Louis says with a deadly sharpness.

"No." Harry speaks up truculently.

"That was not a question." Louis releases Harry's wrists like they've just bitten him. "Get out of my house."

Harry struggles to stand- feet still stiff and equilibrium still off. He wonders how much arguing will get Louis to drop it.

Louis doesn't give him much time to think it over though because he leaves the room absolutely fuming and Harry's faced with either staying in here alone or following Louis.

He follows Louis.

When he gets out to the living room, Louis has a pair of Harry's designated lounge clothes (that are actually Louis') sitting on top of a pile that also holds his suit from yesterday, the garment bag from Brazil, and the sack of tea.

"You'll have a cab here in two minutes." Louis says, all business. "You are not welcome here for the next 24 hours."

Harry feels overly aware of his nakedness in the middle of Louis' vast living room and feels like maybe he made the wrong choice. He didn't think about it ending with Louis not wanting to be around him. Fuck.

At least he only said 24 hours. He didn't break the contract. And maybe Harry will be healed by then. He'll be healed and Louis can punish him.

Louis doesn't even look at him as he gets dressed, which, _good_. Harry doesn't deserve to be looked at. He struggles into his clothes and drapes the suits over his arm and grabs the sack.

He feels a sick pleasure as Louis doesn't even bother saying goodbye when he leaves through the door.

~~~

L

Louis puts on Breaking Benjamin and works out for two hours.

What. The. _Fuck_. Is he doing wrong?

That's the only thing going through his head as he showers and puts on his suit to go into Metal Core and work through the night.

~~~

He isn't as surprised as he should be when it's Zayn that wakes him up and not the sunlight that's shining through his giant window walls and filling every ounce of his office.

"Mr. Tomlinson?" Zayn sets a soft hand on his shoulder.

"Don't fucking touch me." He rasps out.

Zayn's hand leaves him instantly. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black like my soul." He says without opening his eyes.

"I'll bring you a towelette and some mouthwash. Arun down in PR wants to talk to you in 10." Zayn informs.

Louis' eyes fly open and he sits up, an important document glued to the side of his face from saliva. He rips it off quickly. "Why the fuck does Arun need to speak with me?"

"He's been getting a lot of calls in regards to a recent interview." Zayn says cautiously.

"You're fired next time you make me ask for more information." Louis threatens. "I haven't done an interview in months."

Zayn shifts his weight. "So Harry did an interview that just got released this morning. Arun's been getting calls since then because um," Zayn pauses, "the interview took place in your house?"

Louis blinks at Zayn. "Sorry?"

"They pulled up some pictures from years ago when you first got your penthouse- someone put two and two together and Arun's phone has been ringing off the hook. They want a statement." Zayn says.

"Are you fucking shitting me?" Louis pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Arun has the pictures. He'll be up in..." Zayn checks his watch, "six minutes now."

"Then why the fuck don't I have my coffee in front of me yet?" Louis snaps.

Zayn leaves without a word and Louis massages his neck. He stretches it from side to side because it's kinked as fuck from sleeping face first on his desk.

Speaking of, his ass is asleep, so he stands up to do an all over stretch- feeling sore from yesterday's over exerting workout.

And then he remembers why he worked out so hard in the first place. And audibly groans into the silence of his office.

Now he has two things to deal with. The fucking PR shit storm and fighting with Harry.

Both which require him to actually _talk_ to Harry.

Arun, a man of Indian descent, comes through the door several minutes later with a stack of tabloids.

**Friendly Competitors... or MORE?!?**

**Harry Styles Recent Interview Reveals SHOCKING Secrets!!!**

**Cowboy Fraternizing with Competitor?**

**Whose Team does Harry Styles ACTUALLY play for?**

**Harry Styles Found in a Not-So-Family-Friendly Environment**

**Park Party for Farmer and Females**

"Jesus Christ." Louis flips through them to see Harry comfortably sitting on his living room sofa in the outfit Louis helped him pick out the day of his interview.

It's a long spread. It must have been an all-day thing, as four pages are dedicated to the actual interview that took place in _his_ home, a page for his Central Park interview featuring Harry as the new Jillian Michaels and then-

"What the fucking hell is this?" Louis' eyebrows his hairline.

"The after party from his Central Park interview. There were a few pictures and petty articles leaked early the day it happened- just from bystanders. I guess this is where they were actually going with it."

Now, in full HD quality, Louis sees the photos that the paparazzi had taken that day.

Harry is shirtless in all of the pictures they've chosen.

The girls' barely-there clothing leave nothing to the imagination. There's a picture of a girl pinning him against the truck and Harry gripping into her hips as they kiss while another girl appears to be dancing on the hood of the truck. Another picture shows him in the cab with fogged up windows, head thrown back in the throes of passion while two girls make out in his lap.

"I will fucking _kill_ Desmond." Louis says, wishing he hadn't let Desmond off so easily with a threatening voicemail and a small drop in his stocks.

"He set all this up then? Why do you think he had Harry do the interview in your house? How did they even get in? Did you move? Is this all a freaky coincidence?" Arun rattles off questions.

"Gods fuck." Louis can't lose it. He feels like he's losing it. But he can't lose it. He can handle hard things.

"What do we tell the press?" Arun presses.

"Anything that ends with him and I not being romantically involved. I don't fucking _care_. Do your job right and I might give you a raise." Louis hopes Arun is competent enough to take care of something of this gravity.

"So you're not?" Arun perks up.

"What?" Louis squints at him.

"Romantically involved with Harry Styles?" Arun questions.

And God, for as pissed at Harry as he is, he could _totally_ sell Harry out right now. Teach him what happens when he fucking _slaps_ Louis. On fucking purpose. Knowing full well what the fuck he was doing.

Louis' head spins with how much more fucking _angry_ that makes him.

But Louis has morals. Morals that are bound by a contract between him and his subs.

"Do you take me for a fucking idiot?" Louis sneers. "Why in the hell would I fuck the CEO's son of our competitor company?"

Arun wilts in a little on himself. "Sorry Mr. Tomlinson. I just thought it might be a good way to undermine their company from the inside out."

Louis barks out a laugh. A loud laugh.

"On second thought, I'll have Zayn arrange a raise for you. You get a bonus if you handle this shit right. I also want you creating and releasing a fake product recall for one of Roots products giving people testicular cancer or fucking anything." Louis swishes his hand towards the door. "Now get out of my fucking face."

Arun is out the door in seconds.

~~~


	34. Chapter 34

 

A/N: So sorry that chapter 32 didn't end up uploading correctly. I've added the text to the chapter. As most of you found out, it's not integral to the plot. It includes aftercare, a recap for Harry, and Louis giving a couple gifts to Harry. With that, enjoy this chapter, full of a pic and text ;) You guys are the best <3

~~~

 

~~~

H

Harry hasn't known his father as an adult for too long. 

Like, maybe two and a half months now. 

Every other memory he has of his father is nearly 20 or more years ago when they were younger and Anne and Desmond were still married and they all lived on the farm together.

But in the short couple months that Harry has been an adult and working with his father as an adult, he's picked up on some things.

Like what Desmond looks like when he wants to yell, but doesn't.

Back then, Desmond never held back on yelling.  But now, he reins it in to run his company.

His face is curdled into a terrible expression of repugnance that Harry is surprised to find he has no reaction to. 

His father won't hit him.  Not anymore.

His father's approval doesn't mean shit to him.  He's getting the fuck out of here on March 26th anyway.

"Harry."  Desmond sits stick straight like he might snap at the slightest hint of tension.

"What?"  Harry snaps aggressively.  He's not about to be patronized for any of his actions.

"What possessed you to do your interview in Mr. _Tomlinson's_ living room?"  Desmond grits out.

"What?"  This time Harry asks in bafflement. 

He hardly got any sleep last night and came into work early this morning with an attitude a bit shorter than normal.  But normally, Harry hasn't royally infuriated his Dom and stewed in his self-loathing all night long.

Desmond turns around a tabloid, open to the spread of Harry's interview, with pictures of Louis' flat taken from years ago.  "What were you thinking?"

Shit.  Harry didn't realize people would connect the dots.  Didn't realize that the inside of Louis' house had been photographed and put out into the public before.  Shit, shit, shit.

But he's not about to admit defeat to his father.  He sits up straighter in his João Pimenta suit that he wore into work that- shockingly- fit perfectly on him and adjusts his cuffs.

"I was just _doing_ what you asked.  I _obviously_ couldn't do the interview in my own home since you wouldn't approve of what I've done with the place and I didn't have enough warning to make other arrangements."  Harry defends himself and puts the problem as his father's.

Niall bursts through the door just as the fire alarms and sprinklers go off.  "Mr. Styles!  There's a fire in the break room!"

"What?"  Desmond stands up instantly.

Harry panics because the sprinklers are getting on his new suit. 

"The fire department is on their way.  There was a grease fire- we need to fucking evacuate!"  Niall yells.

Desmond pulls his suit coat over to cover his head and Harry pulls his off to try and protect it from the sprinklers- then realizing its exposing his new baby blue silk shirt.  He knows he can get it dry cleaned, but what if there are fucking chemicals in the water to assist in putting out the fire?  This suit is irreplaceable and he might fucking ruin it the first day he wears it.

By the time they make it into the street- the entire company is scattered on the sidewalk and in the street- completely blocking traffic.  Oh, and fucking _great_.  Of course it's raining outside.

Harry could scream.

He gets as deep into the awning as he can to protect himself from the rain.

"Harry!"  Liam comes rushing up to him, pushing through the crowd to get to him. 

"Liam, are you okay?"  Harry turns around to face him. 

Liam looks mortified.  "I- the- damn it!" 

"What?"  Harry's eyes widen at Liam's panic.

"Harry, my notes!  I was on the bottom floor so I didn't have time- but- I need- shit!  I have three conference calls transcribed and I haven't put the information in the computer yet!  There's- there's- dates and appointments and _fuck_!"  Liam hyperventilates.

Harry places his hands on Liam's shoulders.  "Hey, it's fine.  It's okay, take deep breaths with me, it will be okay."

"It's on top of my desk!"  Liam breaks free and looks back to the entrance of Roots.  "I need to go get them!"

"No, no, no.  You can't go back in there."  Harry looks around and hears the firetrucks in the distance but can't see them yet.  The sprinklers will turn off once they get in there, right?

"I _have_ to!  I'll get _fired_!"  Liam wails and crumbles to the ground.  "Oh my God!"

"Hey, it's fine!"  Harry starts panicking himself.  "I'll- I'll go get them for you, okay?"

"No, I'll go-" Liam looks pathetically and wistfully at the front door, his fringe completely plastered to his face half from tears and half from the rain pelting his back.

"No, you stay.  You could get hurt- here, just-" Harry groans in frustration and shoves his suit coat in Liam's hands.  "Do not.  Let this get wet."  He says strictly.

Liam nods with wide eyes, accepting the full gravity of his responsibility. 

And Harry doesn't want his brand new shirt from Louis getting ruined either, so he quickly pulls it over his head and hands it to Liam.  It's another split second decision and he decides to just take off his suit pants too because he can just grab his work out shorts from upstairs to come back out in.  He doesn't want to risk tromping through the building and ruining them from the downpour.

"Your _back_ -" Liam's jaw has dropped open and Harry assumes Liam is just extremely uncomfortable about the fact that his boss is in nothing but boxers and Chelseas outside the company building.

Harry jogs back into the building before anyone else can see; the waterlogged carpets squishing under his feet.  The sprinklers have drenched _everything_ and the fire alarm pounds in his ears making him want to run right back out of the building.

He doesn't though.  He heads straight for the stairs that he takes every morning and takes them three at a time, wishing elevators didn't automatically shut down when the alarms go off.

He makes it to the top floor and sees that Liam's desk is an absolute train wreck with how many paper notes he keeps on hand.  It's piles and piles of mushed yellow and white and bleeding ink and Harry pushes some to the side to hopefully save what he can of Liam's notepad.

He finds it lodged halfway under the keyboard and sees that it's taken significant water damage to the bottom half, but the top half is mostly untouched.  Some of the writing is still legible.  He figures it's better than nothing.

Making his way through the soaked hall and into the giant bathroom, he quickly switches his boxers for his briefs and spandex bottoms and throws on his tank top for good measure.

He shoves his ruined Chelseas into the cubby and changes into his sneakers too.  It will be easier to run down the stairs in them. 

Jogging back down the stairs, he does his best to protect Liam's notes and feels happy that he's helped him out today.  He hates seeing people distressed and he loves when he can be the solution to a problem.

When he's on his last flight of stairs between Floors 1 and 2, he gets too overzealous with taking multiple steps and slips on the slick marble.  His back crashes against the harsh edges and dig into his back and legs. 

"Fuck!"  Harry rolls onto his side wondering why the hell it hurt so badly.

He catches his breath as water streams down his face and on his parted lips.  Wet hair is plastered all over his cheeks and the fire alarm keeps blaring and echoing through the empty building.

His ass throbs and throbs and his shoulders feel like they've just been kicked by a fucking bull and-

Shit.

He reaches into his shorts to feel his skin, hissing at the sting.  He pulls his hand back out and sees it coated in blood.  He split his wound back open. 

"Fuck.  Fuck."  Harry lightly bangs his head against the wall. 

He hasn't been taking anti-inflammatories or icing himself at all and he thinks, maybe, if he had, then maybe his fall wouldn't have hurt so fucking badly.  Maybe his wound wouldn't have split open the second something touched it because it wouldn't be as inflamed.

He thinks Louis was so right about everything and Harry is a petulant fucking idiot for trying to push Louis on something he knows a fuck ton more about than Harry ever will.

He needs Louis.  He needs his Dom and he needs his Louis.  He doesn't have the faintest idea how to fix himself but he _knows_ Louis will know how.  Louis will know how to make him stop hurting and will put him back together again.

He reaches a hand up to grab the slippery handrail and hoists himself up.

" _God_."  Harry's arms can't hold much weight without it pulling horribly at his shoulders. 

_'Your back-'_

Liam's gaping jaw comes back to him and Harry bites his lip as he realizes Liam saw his _back_.  He saw the cane marks.  Who knows what the hell he thinks about that- what if he thinks Louis is terrible to him?  What if he tells his father?  He _has_ to try and explain himself to Liam.  But how the _fuck_ does he do that?

The urgency floods through him as he limps quickly the rest of the way down the stairs as a dozen firefighters come crashing through the door.

"Sir!  Sir!  Are you alright?"  They come at him yelling.

"You need to evacuate immediately!" 

"We need an EMT!"

Fuck, _fuck_.  Harry can't get a physical.  He can't fucking be inspected or touched by anyone.  He can't have anyone see the blood that could be dripping down his legs.  He can't have anyone see the cane marks that his shorts _barely_ cover.

His heart thuds louder and he tries jogging as quickly as possible through the crowd of firefighters- still not able to have his balance as precise as normal due to his feet that are still stiff from the beating they took yesterday. 

One of the firefighters wraps an arm around him anyway and escorts him out- Harry yelping at the agony in his shoulders and trying to squirm free.

Liam is standing right by the entrance outside along with dozens of paparazzi and Harry gives him his notebook.

Then he tries to break free the second he has room to.

"Sir, we need to have an EMT inspect you!"  The fireman says, squeezing him harder.

"No!"  Harry yells without meaning to.  "Red!"

"Sir, there may have been a carbon monoxide leak.  We need to check your oxygen levels and exposure levels."  He says, firmly grasping around Harry's shoulders.

Harry nearly screams at the pain in his shoulders because nobody fucking touches him except for his Dom.  "No!  Red!"

"Please cooperate with us.  You may be poisoned if you were exposed to any fumes for too long."  The man uses his other arm to try and secure Harry.

"No, no!"  Harry ducks down and shoves the man off of him.  "Don't fucking touch me!"

Before he can grab Harry again, Harry runs.  He runs through the crowd and pushes through people until the people become blurry.  Either that, or his vision is becoming blurry.  He brings a hand up to rub at his eyes and finds that they're wet.

Shaking it off, he runs through the front doors without thinking and feels like he can finally breathe in the copacetic black and white lobby.  He sees Zayn and a blonde woman snap their heads towards his cacophonous entrance.

He hears a large gasp paired with labored hyperventilation and it takes a moment to register that the noises are coming from his lungs.

Zayn and the blonde are by his side in seconds and Harry's knees hit the ground.

~~~

**/Sneak Peek for next update/**

"I want that Louis.  I want everything.  I want to be everything for you."  Harry looks back up to Louis with wide eyes.

"Alright then."  Louis pulls out one of the braids he made.  "Start with moving into my house."

Harry's eyes instantly throw up a guard.  "Why?"

~~~


	35. Chapter 35

               

~~~

L

Louis is in the board room, leaning forward with clasped hands as his financial team gives him the report for the end of fourth quarter.

His phone has been ringing off the hook from his architect team in Norway the last 42 minutes that he's been in this meeting.  The fucking architects can wait another 12 minutes for Louis to get out of one of the most important meetings for his company.

Freddie clicks the Power Point to the next slide showing the ROI for their primary investments that they distributed amongst different companies since Vander Tech didn't end up happening.

Louis rolls his eyes, currently pissed off that he's got a mess of a relationship and a lost acquisition.

He sees a blur of black suit catch the corner of his eye and when he turns his head to see who the hell is running through his thousand-dollar hallway, Zayn bursts through the silent glass conference room door.

Louis quirks an eyebrow.  "Where's the fire?"

Zayn's eyes widen a little, as if Louis had just read his mind or something.  "Across the street."

He rolls his eyes.  "What do you need?  We have 12 more minutes here."

Zayn shakes his head.  "It's a um- code red, Mr. Tomlinson."

Both of Louis' eyebrows go up this time.  He's never been informed of a code red protocol.  "And what exactly does that mean Mr. Malik?"

"It means red."  Zayn presses like Louis should understand what he's trying to say.

Code red.  Code red.  Red.  Red.

Fuck.  Red.

Stop everything and figure out what's wrong.

"Gentlemen, we will reschedule and finish this tomorrow."  Louis stands up and is ready for whatever the fuck is about to happen. 

A fire across the street?  Shit, Roots is across the street.  Roots is on fire?  Is Metal Core on fire now?  Did Harry get hurt?

Is the code red for his company or for Harry?

Once they're in the elevator together, Zayn presses the button for Floor 34.  The second the doors close, Zayn starts speaking at lightning speed.

"Gigi was dropping off lunch because the street has been closed down.  Roots had a grease fire or something- I don't _know_ what exactly happened- I was trying to talk to her and figure it out; and then Harry came barreling through the front doors looking like he'd just outrun a lion and collapsed, so Gigi and I took him to your office and she's with him now."  Zayn says in under 10 seconds.

That explains all the fucking sirens outside the window for the last 30 minutes.  He knows Zayn has told him everything he knows, so he doesn't bother asking any more questions. 

He, instead, fixes his cuff links and takes a deep breath.  "Zayn, I want you to go back downstairs immediately after this and find out what happened and if Harry needs to go to the hospital."

Zayn nods.  "Will do sir."

The elevator dings and before it's open all the way, Louis squeezes through sideways to get out of the door and book it down the hall. 

He flings open his office door to see Harry curled in on himself and sobbing into his knees and Gigi right next to him with an arm around his shoulder.

Harry.  He's in his fucking workout clothes.  His hair is _drenched_.  Gigi gives him a worried look.

Louis is on his knees in seconds and takes Gigi's place.  He reaches out to wrap an arm around Harry.

Harry instantly shrieks and shoves Louis off.  "Don't fucking touch me!  My Dom- only Louis-!"

Louis' eyes are wide, not sure what the fuck is going on.  "Harry."  He says as calmly as possible.  "It _is_ me.  It's Louis.  I'm here baby.  Come here."

Harry looks like he's ready to run out of the room until he meets Louis' steady gaze and then he nearly throws his body at him. 

Louis situates him into his lap and cuddles him gently.  "Talk to me baby.  What happened?"

"I _fell_."  Harry wails.  "They kept trying to take me and touching me- they were gonna see-"

"Love."  Louis rubs his arms softly.  "No one is touching you now okay?  Just me.  It's just you and me.  Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"

Harry nods wetly into Louis' Calvin Klein suit. 

"Does it hurt where your marks are?"  Louis asks softly.

Harry nods again.

Louis looks up to Gigi who has been hovering and waiting to be of use.  "First aid kit, towel, blankets, ice, change of clothes, tea."

Gigi nods and leaves the room.

"What else baby?"  Louis encourages.

"Liam he- he-" Harry gasps in a breath of air, "he saw my marks!  He saw them!  And what if he knows it's you or what if he tells my father or-"

"Baby it's fine.  Don't worry about Liam okay?"  Louis holds Harry's head against his chest.

"I'm such a bad person!"  Harry cries.  "I'm a bad sub!  I didn't listen and then I- I _hit_ you and I don't _deserve_ you!  I'm so _sorry_!"

"It's okay.  It's alright baby.  Deep breaths for me."  Louis rocks him back and forth, feeling the heat of emotions spike through his body.  He can't get emotional.  He can't get emotional.  He's in charge.  Harry is allowed to lose it and Louis is the one to take care of him.  "It's okay.  You're here with me.  I'm here for you okay baby?  It's alright."

His phone signals a call from Zayn.  Louis answers it instantly.  "What's the report?"

"Fire started from an oven.  Minimal toxins were released only on the site of the fire- everywhere tested carbon monoxide free.  He should be fine."  Zayn reports.

"Thank you Zayn."  Louis hangs up and puts his attention back to Harry immediately.  "You're going to be alright baby."

"I-I'm sorry."  Harry grasps to Louis' lapels tighter.

"We'll worry about that later okay?"  Louis soothes.

"I wouldn't have- if I would have-" Harry stutters, "I didn't even listen and I hurt myself because of it."

"We'll get you all fixed up, okay?  I'm here to take care of you."  Louis wishes he knew something that could help calm Harry down more efficiently. 

Thinking back, he struggled to come back from their scene the other night too.  Even with Louis' words and actions, Harry seems to take the jump back into homeostasis harsher than some of his other subs.  With one though- he used ASMR.  The initial adjustment of his sub accepting and embracing that particular tactic took several times though.  Louis wants something that can help Harry _now_.

Something that he might already be familiar with.

He jogs his mind back through all the stories Harry has told him.  What are areas of comfort to him?  His Rover blanket.  The smell of cow manure.  The sight of the sun rising across his farm.  The touch of a horse's nose.  The sound of crickets at night-

Louis unlocks his phone and opens up YouTube to quickly search 'cricket sounds at night' and clicks on the top result. 

"Just relax for me, okay baby?"  He presses play and sure enough, the sound of crickets and an occasional frog fill the space of his office.

Harry's muscles all sag instantly as he morphs from a tight ball of tenseness into a soft cotton dandelion.  Louis holds him a little more securely so that he doesn't slip out of his grasp and feels Harry's breaths turn into something closer to a purr. 

He rubs small circles into his back and continues to rock him back and forth until Gigi comes back through the door with a reusable bag over her shoulder.

The requested items are all laid out- and Gigi managed to get a pillow too, which is unexpected, but fantastic nonetheless- and Gigi looks to Louis for further direction.

"Thank you.  Have Zayn fill in for me the rest of the day and lock the door on your way out."  Louis says softly to her.  "Please?"  He tacks on for good measure since Gigi has no obligation to him.

She offers a smile and a nod and then leaves- locking the door behind her.

"Let's take a look, okay baby?"  Louis pulls him away from his chest to look into his droopy eyes.  "Lay down on your stomach and I'll get you all fixed up."

Harry hesitantly slithers out of Louis' lap, but refuses to have more than an inch of distance between himself and his Dom.  Louis scoots the pillow under his head and keeps the crickets going while he takes a breath for himself.

He starts off by peeling off Harry's sopping wet spandex shirt and the slowly shedding his spandex shorts.  Harry grunts when Louis pulls them over the globe of his ass- the blood having dried and stuck to some of the material.  Louis gently separates the two and is frustrated when it opens Harry's wound back up.  He tosses the wet clothes to the side and pats Harry dry with the towel, then helps him into the hoodie that Gigi managed to procure.

After deciding that moving around in his suit jacket is too debilitating, he shucks it off and elects on letting Harry hold it.  Harry instantly shoves the jacket into his face and sighs.

Louis smiles at his sub and then covers his legs and back with two different blankets so that his ass is still exposed.  He frowns at himself more than the still byzantium striae that litters Harry's ass- carmine blood pooling around the abrasion.  He will possibly never forgive himself for letting this happen.

Opening up the first aid kit, he pulls out the Neosporin and swabs it across the area to disinfect it.  Harry's muscles twitch at the sting, but he doesn't say anything against it.  Louis makes sure to keep one hand on Harry the entire time- grounding him- making sure he knows that he's still here for him.

He butterflies and gauzes the area again, like he did on the first night, then gently pulls the joggers that Gigi got from God-knows-where onto Harry.  He places the ice just on Harry's ass for now and covers it with the blanket.  Once that's done, he helps Harry lift his head enough to drink some tea and an anti-inflammatory, and then repositions the pillow so it's in his lap.

He lets Harry relax in silence for a while, not pushing any conversation, and enjoys the peaceful vibe of crickets in his office.  After running his hands through Harry's curls for so long, he starts nonsensically braiding it like he used to see his mom do.

Harry curls onto his side when Louis pulls the ice off 30 minutes later and flicks his eyes up to meet Louis'.  "I'm so sorry about hitting you."

"We don't have to talk about this right now."  Louis says since Harry's just come down from an emotional trauma.

Harry shakes his head though.  "I'm sorry.  Please don't leave me."  He pleads.

"Why did you do it?"  Louis asks, emotionless.

Harry looks down to the carpet at that.  "I wanted... more."

Louis audibly exhales and prevents himself from biting his nails. 

'More.'  Harry's said that nearly a dozen times now.  He wants fucking _more_ from Louis and Louis has some ideas of what that entails, but doesn't want to push Harry too hard.  But apparently Harry is willing to abuse and manipulate Louis for more.

Maybe Louis is holding him back though.  Maybe Harry is ready for heavier play.  Maybe he's ready for the kind of play that fucks with you psychologically _days_ after a scene has ended because clearly scenes that come and go within 24 hours aren't cutting it for him.

"Baby, you have to have 100 percent trust in me for us to do more.  If you want more, it's going to become a greater mental taxation on you.  It will- It'll change you as a person.  Change the way you think and act.  Change your core."  Louis says honestly.

He gives it to Harry straight up because he's had subs come to him thinking they were prepared for anything and finding out later that they couldn't handle it.  He's had a sub become obsessed and base their identity off of Louis for years and not have a clue who he was when Louis let him go.  He's had subs who only want physical domination, but don't let Louis get near their brain.  He's had subs who came into the contract as one person and left as someone completely different.

"I want that Louis.  I want everything.  I want to be everything for you."  Harry looks back up to Louis with wide eyes.

"Alright then."  Louis pulls out one of the braids he made.  "Start with moving into my house."

Harry's eyes instantly throw up a guard.  "Why?"

"Because we both have demanding schedules as is.  I don't want one or both of us constantly taking an hour to commute to and from each other's all the time and I do not want the disorganization that comes from trying to live in two places at once.  I already have half of my life set up here."  Louis remembers back to the day he had to bring in an entire spare wardrobe to keep at work because too many random things required changes of clothing at the drop of a hat.

"Okay..."  Harry trails off.

And Harry's unsureness really pisses Louis off if he's being honest.  "How the hell am I supposed to believe you trust me when you won't even do something as simple as move in with me?"  He asks harshly.

"Sorry- no it's not that..."  Harry bites his lip.  "What about all my stuff?"

"Bring it with you?"  Louis says, quizzically. 

But then- _oh_.  Right.  Harry keeps a bale of hay, open farm animal feed, and an American flag as his interior décor.  He assumes that falls under the category of 'stuff.'  And really, Louis will be damned before he has a fucking bale of hay sitting in his living room.

He groans and throws his head back because he's kind of at an impasse.  Louis isn't the person to monopolize his sub's entire identity and make them cut ties with their past life.  But chicken feed?  Next to his god damned Viking appliances?  No fucking thank you.

"I'll leave the farm stuff behind."  Harry pipes up.

Louis doesn't instantly oppose the idea, because Harry offered the solution to his problem.  Whether it's out of the sincerity of his heart or not, Louis doesn't think he wants to question it.

"Bring what is most important to you."  Louis decides to leave it up to him.  He knows Harry is willing to compromise for him, so Louis will do the same.

Harry nods into the pillow that is still in Louis' lap. 

"I want you moved in by the weekend."  Louis decides.

"Okay."  Harry says, easily.

Louis lets the silence- save for the crickets- settle in for a while so he can gather his thoughts.  'More.'  Jesus, Louis might be stepping into territory that he's hardly touched before, but he's also never had a sub assimilate and jump in as head first as Harry has. 

He's never been about Total Power Control by any means- it's not his style- but he figures he can incorporate several things in for Harry's sake.  Louis, after all, is subject to trying things out and deciding against them later too. 

"We'll start off with requiring you to ask me permission any time you want to spend time alone with someone, save for business meetings with your father or employees."  Louis says to see how Harry takes it.  "I'm talking about out-of-work extra-curricular dates that you seem to be fond of."

"Sure."  He responds instantly.

"Every morning you get dressed, it has to be passed off by me- whether in person, via text, or video call."  Louis says next.

"Okay."  Harry looks up to Louis, seemingly waiting for the hard part.

"The thing about this Haz- _you_ need to know when to draw the line.  I know you'll do anything to please me, but you also are training to be CEO of a global electronics company, and I don't take that lightly.  It's not like you're my sugar baby who stays at home all day."  Louis says, tentatively.

"What do you mean?"  Harry furrows his eyebrows.

"I mean, if you're expected to be on an international relations call with an ambassador first thing in the morning and I- for whatever reason- can't get to my phone to pass off your wardrobe, I do _not_ want you sitting at home in our closet waiting for my text and missing the meeting.  Business comes first, do you understand?"  Louis explains since he holds himself to the exact same standards.

"But I'll get punished if I don't get your approval?"  Harry asks.

"I will leave that up to your discretion."  Louis compromises.  "I don't want you feeling like you are being punished for being a responsible businessman."

Harry seems to think on that for a minute, then nods his head.  "Okay.  What else?"

Louis tries not to groan because this situation is so, _so_ different than any other sub he's had.  He's going to have to put just as much trust into Harry as Harry puts into him.

But Harry is asking, so Louis will give it a shot.  "Everything you eat has to be passed off my me.  Again, the previous requirements apply and I'm trusting _you_ to know where the line is.  So help me _God_ , if you faint because you don't eat an entire plane ride and end up in some third world country without cell reception or _whatever_ the fuck or end up in the hospital, I will be fucking furious."

Harry's face catches and looks horrified for a half second.  "Why do I have to do that?"

"Because it will please me to know that every decision you make; you make with me in mind.  It will please me to know that you want my approval for everything you do."  Louis says with a false syrupy sweetness to his voice.  "You want to please me don't you?"

Understanding seeps into Harry's facial expression as he nods furiously.  "Yes sir."

"Good."  Louis starts braiding his hair again.  "I'll reiterate again- _because_ of our unique positions- I need to trust you to make the right judgment calls."  Louis makes sure it's sunk deep into Harry's future-CEO skull.

Harry almost grins with a hint of smugness.  "I remember and understand.  I swear it.  You can trust me."

"You are also not to spend a dime without asking me permission first."  Louis fully expects a huge setback with this one.  Money and time are the typical power-exchanges he includes in his contracts without it feeling too much like a slave and Master situation.  However, it's typically the most problematic exchange of power that he runs into with his subs.

Harry just shrugs though.  Fucking shrugs like he hasn't given up a thing.  "Okay."

Money doesn't do it for Harry.  Time and wardrobe, he couldn't care less about.  He hardly batted an eye at needing permission each time he eats. 

He shivers a little at the thought of how easily Harry may have stumbled into a bad relationship here with abusive Dominants and Masters crawling the streets of New York for a dime a dozen.  Harry could have fallen right into bed with any number of men who exploit their power against him.

So he thinks back to Harry.  What is difficult for Harry?  Obviously not control over his own life.  Academics though.  Academics perplex Harry and force him to think, and think _hard_. 

When the thought pops into his brain, he wants to take back every single power exchange and just leave it to this one.  Because this.  This will be the thing to defeat him.

"Starting with today's paper, I want you filling out the New York Times Crossword.  You may use Google."  Louis says since he doesn't want Harry to throw himself into a helpless depression over it.

"What?"  Harry looks flummoxed already.

"The newspaper crossword.  You can ask anyone for help too.  The two things you may _not_ do, are call the hotline for hints, nor may you Google the answers for yesterday's paper when you can't figure it out on your own."  Louis says.

"How long does it take to complete one?"  Harry asks, stressed.

Louis hums.  "I suspect your first one will take you close to a month.  But you are to complete one before moving onto the next and may not stop until you can fill one out by yourself in one day."

Harry's pupils dilate at the challenge. 

Which, Louis knows is impossible for the average person.  Especially a person from Harry's background.

But what kind of Dom would Louis be if he didn't assign his sub to impossible tasks every now and again?  A boring one.  That's what.

"I'll check in with you every day and ask if you've finished.  No punishment will be put in place for failing, but there will be a reward larger than you can imagine once you reach the goal I've set for you."  Louis says, knowing full well that Harry will put himself through enough mental punishment to feel bad about over not completing one in a day.

Oh.  And.  He has no reward.  He doesn't have to plan for a reward.  Harry won't and cannot do it. 

"I'll do it."  Harry says like he thinks he can do it.

"I know you can baby."  Louis lies and gently tugs the braid out of his hair.  "What's your color?"

"Green."  Harry says, almost like a question.

"Are you good to get back to work then?"  Louis checks his Rolex to see that he can probably make it to his last three meetings for the day.

"Yeah."  Harry says with a hint of disappointment.  "Thank you though- for... everything."  His tone changes to something much more appreciative as he sits up slowly.

"You're welcome."  Louis leans in to give him a peck on the mouth.  "Do not do any heavy lifting, do not work out, take more anti-inflammatories in an hour, and take every precaution to help your ass heal, alright?"

Harry digests the information quickly.  "Yes Mr. Tomlinson."

Louis can't help but smirk at Harry's honorific.  "And I have plans for you tonight.  Drink a half gallon of water between now and when you come to mine and do _not_ go to the bathroom."

Harry looks like he might question or protest, but then settles for something simpler.  "Yes sir."

"Excellent."  Louis stands and helps Harry up.  "I'll have my phone on me- let me know if you need me and I'm right here, okay?"

"Okay."  Harry's dimples pop out.

Louis unlocks the door and holds it open for Harry.  "Have a good afternoon."

"See you later tonight."  Harry looks over his shoulder a couple times as he walks down the hallway.

Louis blows him a kiss for the hell of it, then shuts his office door when the elevator doors hide Harry behind them.

~~~

**/Sneak peek for next update/**

"Excellent."  Louis sits on the sofa and puts his feet up on the table where there are two empty champagne glasses, a pitcher of water, and the freezer tray of self-producing ice cubes.  "Come join me baby."

Harry tries not to resemble a fawn as he prances over to the sofa to sit next to Louis.  Maybe Louis will braid his hair again.  Maybe he'll take care of him with ice and blankets and pillows and love.  He's almost certain he's about to get ice up his ass and he can't wait to show Louis how well he can take it.

If this isn't love, Harry isn't sure what is.

Louis picks up Harry's hand to kiss it.  "Remember your colors baby?"

Harry nods and tries to suppress his beating heart.  He didn't realize they were starting so quickly.  "Yes sir."

~~~


	36. Chapter 36

 

A/N: Thank you for the 501 followers on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/LemonSuccubus)! This, my friends, has been my favorite chapter to write so far. Enjoy :)

-Dannie Ybarra

~~~

H  

Harry has a milk jug half full of water in front of him.  He's only taken a few sips and realized how much he dislikes water.  Why couldn't Louis assign him to drink a half gallon of iced tea instead?  Does it matter?  Would he notice?  Maybe he'll test the chemicals on Harry's tongue or something to check for sugar.

He should just stick to water.

Besides, Louis tells him what to do now.  Louis is in charge of Harry.  From clothes to food.  Harry has the privilege of Louis passing it off for him.  He's so lucky, really.  He thinks, not for the first time, he would be so lost without Louis.

So he clenches his eyes shut and gulps down as much water as he can manage before setting it back down and grimacing at what looks like hardly a dent in the container.

He's since changed out of his comfy clothes and back into Louis' Brazilian suit with pride.  His butt is falling asleep though, so he adjusts his pants and wiggles around in the seat a little.  He sighs and goes back to staring at the crossword puzzle in front of him.

**It might pop in the post office**

Harry Google's 'what pops in the post office?' and clicks around for 15 minutes until he wants to rip his hair out.

He closes out of the tab and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.  What else can be pop related?  And post office related?  Someone's back?  Someone's can of soda?  Someone's child blowing bubbles and then popping them?  A boner?

Shoving his chair backwards, he stalks into Niall's office.  He's still here, even though it's almost 8pm.  He thinks Niall is here probably more than him. 

He doesn't bother waiting for Niall to acknowledge him and just speaks up.  "Niall, what pops in a post office?"

"What the fuck?"  Niall squints up at him.

"I'm trying to do a crossword puzzle.  What pops in a post office?"  Harry asks again.

"I'm going to act like you didn't just ask me that question."  Niall's focus goes back to his computer.

"It's important."  Harry presses.

"Will it help me get these documents completed and sent out by midnight?  Because if not, I'm not interested."  Niall says, grumpily.

Harry huffs and ditches Niall because he isn't being helpful.  Liam and his father have already left so he can't ask them either.  Harry _would_ be at Louis' right now, except Louis is in a meeting, so Harry is stuck at his desk, putting himself down for being too stupid for a stupid word game.

He decides on moving onto the next one.

**Tiny irritant**

Harry groans at himself and hits his forehead on the table several times.

~~~

L

Louis let Harry know he was in a meeting.

But he's not.  Not a formal one at least.

No.  He's in an elevator on his way up to one of the fanciest penthouses money can buy.

He taps his foot on the lion skin rug under his feet.  Desmond always had such fucking tacky taste.

There's shitty techno music that gradually thumps louder and louder as the elevator rises and Louis wonders when he became the more mature of the two of them.  Because obviously metal is far more sophisticated than techno.

The elevator comes to a stop and Louis steps out and through the glass doors that lead into Desmond's living room.  There are naked women everywhere and Louis has been to some crazy events before- he's seen the most collected businessmen act like hedonic pigs (himself included)- however he didn't take Desmond as one to act in such a manner during his personal time.  And on a week night.

Girls throw themselves and drugs at him, but Louis keeps going until he sees Desmond slumped over his kitchen bar with body guards close by him.

The bodyguards obviously recognize him- as did the doormen who let him through without a question- and Desmond swivels around on the barstool, squinting his bloodshot and glazed eyes as Louis approaches.

Louis fists tightly into Desmond's unbuttoned shirt to hold him in place and punches him as hard as he can across the face.  Several girls shriek and Desmond groans as he drunkenly holds his hands up to still the body guards.

"That's for the shit you've put Harry through from the time he was a child to having women sexually assault him in Central Park."  Louis seethes.

Desmond sways back and forth, trying to maintain eye contact with Louis.  "I'm dying Louis."

"Then I hope you burn in Hell."  Louis spits.

"I was a Christian man my whole life.  And now I'm dying of cancer and what has it brought me?  So live it up while I'm still here; and give my son everything I've worked my entire life for.  My only son who hates me.  Fucking hates me."  Desmond slurs.

"I don't pity you.  You deserve this."  Louis hates Desmond.  _Hates_ him.  "I hope you know you're the exact reason he came crawling to me.  _You_ did this Desmond.  I hope you die miserably, knowing you've done nothing but give your son's life and soul to me.  Harry is _mine_.  He will never be yours."

"He will always be my son."  A tear escapes Desmond's eye as his pupils loll back into his head before refocusing back on Louis again.  "Always.  And I just wanted him to have everything I have."

Louis looks around to the state of pathetic debauchery surrounding Desmond.  "You have _nothing_.  And you are passing nothing on to Harry.  He doesn't want anything you have to offer."  Louis releases his shirt and Desmond struggles to grip on the counter so he doesn't fall over. 

"I hope you get to see every ounce of your life fall to pieces before you die."  Louis looks him up and down disgustingly.  "I hope you get buried in regrets with no one but gold diggers and paps watching."

"If it all goes to shit just... please make sure Harry has a good life."  Desmond pleads, the words slowly stumbling from his mouth.  "He was born for greatness."

Louis' lip twitches at that; every riposte dying in his throat.  He turns on his heel and leaves the roué to continue searching for purpose in the bottom of his Glencairn.

~~~

H

**Be home in 20.  Make sure you've had dinner. Anything will suffice. See you there?**

Harry's eyes light up at the message from Louis.  That means- _wait_.  That means Harry has to finish his fucking water.

**Leaving now. Grabbing a salad on my way out xx**

He may or may not have procrastinated a tiny bit.  So he chugs the last quart as quickly as possible, drops his pencil onto the empty crossword puzzle, and tries not to sprint to the elevator.

The numbers move too slowly and Harry wonders if he can talk to someone about making these elevators faster.  Or at least moving his office to the first floor or _something_.  Harry hates the wasted time every day that he spends in the elevator.

Making a quick pit stop in the lunch room to steal a chicken Caesar salad, he calmly power walks to his truck- one of only a few left in the parking garage- and buckles up.

It's a long drive in traffic to Louis', but Harry jams to Jason Aldean with a smile on his face and shoveling salad into his mouth the entire way.  Then he's finally at Louis' door and the first wave of having to go to the bathroom hits him.  He thinks he was quite clever in waiting till the end to drink all the water.  Now he'll hardly have to wait at all. 

Louis doesn't need to know that though.  Harry likes feeling like he can outsmart Louis every now and again.  Especially- _especially_ after banging his head against the table for an hour trying to figure out the New York Times crossword puzzle.

So he grins brightly when Louis opens the door in a different suit and white shirt than Harry remembers him being in this afternoon and gives him an appreciative look up and down.

"Do you think I gave you that key purely for sentimental reasons?"  Louis asks with a hint of amusement as he ushers Harry into his dimly lit house.  There is beautiful, melodic piano music playing softly through the room.  Like it's reaching out to give Harry a warm embrace.

"No."  Harry bites his lip playfully while taking off his shoes- switching for the slippers- and feeling slightly romantic about the whole thing. 

"Then I expect you to stop treating it like one."  Louis says, finitely.

Harry nods, committing the memo to memory.

"Did you complete the crossword puzzle?"  He asks.

And Harry was _just_ assigned that task today.  He's only had- an hour really- to try and figure it out.  But it stings all the same when Harry has to shake his head.  "No, not yet."

Louis tsks.  "Pity."

The sting hits again, but this time much sharper.  God, _why_ did Harry have to spend so much fucking time feeling sorry for himself and puttering around instead of trying to actually make himself of worth and figure out the puzzle?  Tomorrow.  He'll please Louis tomorrow.  He can do it.

"Did you drink a half gallon of water?"  Louis walks across the white carpet over to the white leather living room sofa that Harry's become so familiar with.

This, Harry is confident in answering.  Confident that he will please his Dom.  "Yes sir."

"Excellent."  Louis sits on the sofa and puts his feet up on the table where there are two empty champagne glasses, a pitcher of water, and the freezer tray of self-producing ice cubes.  "Come join me baby."

Harry tries not to resemble a fawn as he prances over to the sofa to sit next to Louis.  Maybe Louis will braid his hair again.  Maybe he'll take care of him with ice and blankets and pillows and love.  He's almost certain he's about to get ice up his ass and he can't wait to show Louis how well he can take it.

If this isn't love, Harry isn't sure what is.

Louis picks up Harry's hand to kiss it.  "Remember your colors baby?"

Harry nods and tries to suppress his beating heart.  He didn't realize they were starting so quickly.  "Yes sir."

Louis' lip twitches into a half smile.  "Do you want to be blindfolded for this?"

Harry doesn't have much of a clue as to what 'this' could possibly entail other than things involving ice that they've already done.  But.  If Louis trusts him to have his eyes open and stay green through the entire thing- hell yeah, he'll do it.  "No thank you."

"So polite."  Louis drags his thumb across Harry's protruding bottom lip and Harry gets goosebumps from the touch.  "Can you undress for me baby?"

Harry's torn between separating himself from Louis' touch and doing exactly as Louis has requested the second it's asked of him.  He thinks the prior is selfish and the latter is a better option though, so he stands up quickly to start pulling off his suit.

It doesn't feel right though.  Just laying his suit over the arm of the couch.  Besides.  Harry might get fucked over the arm of the couch tonight.  He doesn't want to wrinkle his suit or risk getting come on it.

So he hangs up his outfit in Louis' coat closet and returns in nothing but briefs, looking for validation that he's done the right thing.

Louis and his glistening eyes- his devastatingly confident and gorgeous air about him- gives Harry a slow smirk, looking like he's ready to pounce on Harry and wreck him at any moment.  It sends zips through every nerve of Harry's body and he wonders if he'll ever feel like he deserves to have Louis look at him that way.

The zip sparks his nerves in his dick too though and Harry is reminded that he's recently drank a whole lot of water and hasn't yet relieved himself. 

Harry doesn't want to ruin the atmosphere- but also doesn't want to ruin a scene by having to pause halfway through to use the bathroom- so he decides now is as optimal of a time as any to ask to use the bathroom.

He nearly whispers though, not wanting to be louder than the dim lights and piano music.  "Do you mind if I run to the bathroom really quick?"

Louis' face becomes... purposeful.  "Yes I do mind.  I want you staying with me the entire night."

Okay.  So.  Louis is trying to see if Harry's will to outwait Louis will win over Louis' challenge.  Harry has no problem in rising to the occasion.  He can hold it.  It's only a half-gallon anyway.  He's sure his body can figure out how to digest it in other ways.  Or something.

"Okay."  He says.

Louis looks over to the pitcher of water.  "Pour some water for me, will you?  With some ice?  I'm parched."

Harry swallows, wondering why he feels like he's taking steps into depths he's unprepared for.  He reaches for the pitcher and tries to keep his hand from shaking as he watches the water pour into the champagne glass.  He adds cubes to the water after it's full, making it spill over a little.

Louis tsks, making Harry stiffen.  "Ice goes in before the liquid.  Why don't you drink some of it down for me?"

Harry looks from Louis' stoic face to the glass of water that's leaking down his hand and wrist.  He brings his lips down to the glass for fear of spilling more if he were to bring the glass up to his lips and does his best to sip at it silently.

He makes eye contact with Louis once it's sipped down about an inch from the top.

"Why don't you keep going for me?"  Louis suggests.

And Harry doesn't know what the fuck is going on, but he does know that he's going to keep drinking this water because Louis wants him to.  In fact, he doesn't stop until he's drained the glass because Louis didn't specify on how much.  He figures drinking it all should please him.

"You're so good for me, aren't you?"  Louis reaches up to wipe some water from Harry's chin, the cold metal of his cufflink grazing against his skin.

"Love being good for you."  Harry says honestly.  He feels like the beautiful piano piece compliments his statement well.

"Why don't you pour yourself another glass then?"  Louis suggests.

Harry falters.  He doesn't really want to.  He hates water.  But he's 99.9 percent sure he loves Louis.  And he wants to please Louis.  So he pours another glass. 

In the midst of drinking it, Louis reaches over to fill the other flute and lets it sit on the table.  Harry expects him to drink it.  He doesn't.

So Harry sets his empty flute next to the full one on the coffee table.  Harry stares at Louis and Louis looks expectantly at Harry.  He starts to sweat a little under Louis' gaze, not sure what the hell Louis wants from him.  He tries to telepathically look into Louis' mind and see his desires; and then in a manifestation from the universe, Louis flicks his eyes to his full glass of water on the coffee table.

Louis wants him to drink his water too.

Okay.  Harry can do that.  Maybe he's just hydrating for a really salty meal.

He reaches out tentatively- making sure he's doing exactly as Louis wishes- and drinks Louis' flute of water. 

Louis smizes. 

Then Louis pours another glass of water and sets it on the coffee table again.

Harry jumps right in and drinks it again.

It goes like this for another five glasses of water and Harry is glad his pants are off because he's certainly feeling bloated.  His bladder is also about ready to call it quits with this whole thing, but his brain combats it full force- ready to drink the entire damn pitcher if it's what Louis wants.

He just makes sure to move methodically so he doesn't disturb his bladder.

Louis hums, looking appreciatively at Harry.  "I'm feeling a little..." he waves his hand in the air, looking for the word, "over hydrated."

Harry doesn't question the fact that Louis hasn't had a drop of water since he's walked through the door and instead waits for the part where he gets instruction on what to do.

"Mind helping me relieve myself?"  Louis asks.

Harry doesn't actually know if he's supposed to answer with a 'yes' or a 'no,' so he goes for something that can only be interpreted as an affirmative.  "Of course.  Anything."

Louis stands up and Harry wonders if he's going to follow him to the bathroom and hold his dick while he pisses or something.  But Louis grabs an empty flute, fills it with some ice, and hands it to Harry.

Harry holds it asininely, looking up to Louis for direction.

Louis takes his bottom lip between his teeth and unzips his fly.  Harry's gaze snaps down to see what the fuck Louis is doing and then Louis' dick comes into full view.

"Don't let it spill on my pretty white leather couches."  Is the only thing Louis says before inserting the tip of his flaccid dick into the champagne flute and peeing.

Harry stares in shock, not able to move if he tried.  He's snapped out of his stupor when he panics, noticing the flute is almost full of urine and _what the fuck is Harry supposed to do then_?

As luck would have it, the stream stops right before Harry is forced to make any kind of decision, and that's when Harry realizes he's holding a glass of Louis' piss.

He looks up to Louis.

"Mind cleaning me off?"  Louis asks sweetly.

Harry stares at Louis.  He stares and then looks to where there is a smear and few streaks of piss coming from the head of his cock.

And.  Well.  Harry has one hand occupied- holding a glass of chrysoberyl liquid- and the other one sitting free with the option of wiping off Louis' skin.  Except.  Then where would he wipe it?  He's wearing briefs which would just... it would work...

That's when the at-work bathroom sexting incident jumps to the forefront of his mind.

_'I want you cleaning it with your tongue.'_

And it made Louis _so_ pleased with him.  So pleased that Harry wants to do that again over anything else. 

He makes sure not to spill the glass of liquid in his hand when he surges forward to shove Louis' dick in his mouth.  The few drops of urine that he tastes are only a little bitter, but most of the taste is lost in the pleased moan that comes from Louis. 

Harry sucks and licks until he would be willing to bet his life that Louis' dick is now clean of everything but Harry's saliva.  So he pulls off with a pop and looks up to Louis for validation.

"Mmm, wonderful baby."  Louis swipes Harry's lower lip with his thumb, then fixes his fly and sits on the couch again.

Harry hadn't realized that he expected that to end with him giving Louis a blow job until he realized that it didn't end with a blow job.

"How's the temperature of your drink?"  Louis curiously pokes his index, middle finger, and thumb into the flute and pulls them back out- now dripping in his own piss.

Harry wouldn't know how to answer that question unless he were to actually _touch_ the liquid.  So he looks senselessly at Louis.

"Mind testing it out for me love?"  Louis wipes his fingers along Harry's cheek down to his chin as Harry nods.  Then Louis' wet fingers are poking at Harry's lips and it's an instant reaction for Harry to let Louis in.

There's not much taste left, as most of the urine is drying against the skin on his face, but he laps at Louis' fingers anyway.  Louis deems them clean before Harry does and then clasps his hands in his lap.

He licked a bit of urine off Louis' fingers.  Now what?

Louis crosses his legs and smiles patiently at Harry.

It takes a moment for him to come to himself.  And he doesn't know why it took him this long to fucking figure it out.  But it hits him harder than his bladders pleadings when he realizes this is a watersports scene.

He smiles like a fucking idiot because Louis eased him right into it just like he did with caning and Harry's excited as hell to show Louis he can overachieve with any challenge that's given to him.

So, in a habitual action like he's been doing with the water all night, he doesn't hesitate before bringing the champagne flute to his lips and drinking Louis' urine.

It smells... Well, it smells like piss.  And it tastes bitter.  But it looks beautiful and at least the ice cubes have cooled it down.  It shines and reflects against the crystal glass in the dim lighting like some kind of cultured sparkling wine.  Paired with the ambient piano music, the whole thing makes him feel rather sophisticated. 

He bars no restraints in letting the thin liquid pass over every inch of his tongue and swallow methodically down his throat.  His eyes flick over the top of the rim to search for the only thing he cares about.

Louis.  He's smiling.  But softly.  He's not overly impressed. 

Nowhere near the satisfaction that Harry feels for himself.  Maybe he shouldn't feel satisfied with himself.  Maybe he did it wrong.  Maybe he fucked the whole thing up.

He pauses before finishing off the glass and doesn't flinch as he swallows the gulp that's currently filling his mouth.

Louis' mouth downturns into a frown.  "You aren't thirsty anymore?"

Harry panics because _now_ he's fucking everything up.  "I am."

"Then why didn't you finish your glass?"  Louis asks with an air of disappointment.

"I-" Harry's jaw hangs open for a second before he immediately finishing off the remaining yellow liquid in the flute so quickly that some dribbles down his chin and onto his chest.  He doesn't know how to ask for what's next.  "Green?"  He says, praying that Louis hands him a step-by-step instruction pamphlet on how to please him tonight.

Louis nods thoughtfully, but seems to be holding something back.  "Why don't you come and sit on my lap?"

Harry tries not to respond to the mental hesitance he feels now because of Louis.  It's all probably part of the game.  Part of the scene.  Maybe Louis holding back until Harry gives him his all.

He crawls to close the gap between them and then straddles Louis' lap with his bare knees sticking a little to the white leather, loving the feeling of Louis' crisp suit on his inner thighs.  He wonders if his bladder is supposed to feel overly full.  If he's supposed to feel bloated beyond belief.

Louis outstretches his arms on the back of the sofa.  "Don't you love my pretty sofa baby?  And my nice new suit?"

"Yes sir."  The heavy taste of Louis' urine rests on Harry's tongue.

"How would you like to make it messy with me, hmm?"  Louis asks with hooded eyes.

"Yeah."  He breathes out.  Anything with Louis.  Anything for Louis.

"Why don't you relieve yourself on Da-" Louis freezes as he stutters over a half formed word that flies over Harry's head- but leaves a small amaranth blob floating around the forefront of his mind- then continues on as if nothing happened, "in my lap?"

"You want me to pee on you?"  Harry doesn't mean to ask it out loud and so bluntly, but it's not for lack of desire to do so.  Mostly just out of the need to never see the under impressed look on his face again.

"Yeah.  You think you can do that to please me?"  Louis asks with a rough edge to his voice.

"Yes sir."  Harry straightens himself and closes his eyes to try and let go.

The thing is, though, is this isn't just having a casual piss behind a tree on his property somewhere.  This isn't pissing off the side of his horse late in the afternoon when he's miles from his house.  This is peeing on Louis.  His Dom.  His- _fuck_ \- his work competitor.

His eyes fly open to find Louis dressed sharp as always and _God_ \- Louis wants him to ruin his suit?  His white button up?  His white leather couch?  Pee through his underwear?  How the fuck is he supposed to do this?

"Need some help baby?"  Louis licks his lips.

"Yes please."  Harry answers, scared to fail.

Louis threads a hand in the nape of Harry's curls and pulls him forward to kiss him.  Harry _loves_ kissing Louis.  Absolutely fucking loves it.  And Louis.  He's tracing around the lines of Harry's puffy lips to lick off the remaining urine and sucking where it's dripping from his chin. 

Harry can't ask for his mouth again fast enough and Louis complies easily by pressing his tongue back into Harry's mouth.

The fireworks- they're shooting off everywhere- and strain like a bitch where his dick is fighting the urge to pee and get hard at the same time.  It's painful, really.  But bucking broncos and mutton busting couldn't make him tear his lips away from Louis'.

So he's sat with the consequence of his choice to just let the sensations build and build until it becomes a low ache in his belly.   He tries sitting straighter to give his bladder more room to expand, but that doesn't prove to be very effective.

His mind is half torn between Louis sucking on his tongue and his ever-throbbing groin.  He just- fucking- hates the feeling of one fighting the other.  Or maybe enhancing the other.  He can't be sure.

Louis' hands slide to Harry's waist- one slithering around to support his lower back and the other coming around to rub his belly gently.  If it hurts or helps soothe, he really can't tell, but he moans at being touched by Louis anyway.

"Gonna piss all over me baby?"  Louis asks breathily. 

Harry blushes something fierce and has to hide his burning cheeks into Louis' neck as he nods.

"Gonna make me and my expensive sofa so messy with your pee?"  Louis grips him harder.

The hand on Harry's tummy starts to knead in and Harry fights, fights, fights it.  God, he can't do it.  He fucking can't do it.  There's no way.

"You're so full already, aren't you?  You drank so much water and drank my piss like a good boy, didn't you?"  Louis coos, massaging deeper and lower into Harry's bloated bladder.

Tears prick the corners of Harry's eyes because he _can't_ hold it anymore.  With a loud whimper, his dick twitches with the enormous release of pressure as he starts to pee. 

"That's right."  Louis keeps pushing pliant skin with one hand and brings the other to cup Harry's dick over the dampening fabric.  "So good for me baby." 

The pressure starts to decline, but his flow of urine certainly doesn't.  The warm liquid floods through Harry's grey briefs, turning them a dark charcoal.  As Louis' hand moves lower to smear the wet fabric against Harry's thigh, his stream is so strong that it pushes right through the soaked material and lands with a trickle onto Louis' white shirt.

"Got so much piss in you, don't you?"  Louis keens.

Harry wants _desperately_ for it to stop.  But he also wants more than _anything_ to keep peeing.  To keep feeling the trickle of it down his thighs.  To feel the way it sticks his legs to Louis' suit pants.  To feel the way it pools around his knees as he leans in closer to Louis' stomach.

He whines as he feels the remaining piss start to funnel out and _immediately_ presses himself flush against Louis.  He wants to give all of it to Louis.  _Needs_ to feel closer and stuck and messy with him.  Needs to be the reason Louis' white shirt and jacket and pants get completely ruined.

Hating his body for betraying him because he's run out of urine, he ruts his crotch up against Louis' stomach and Louis' hands grip harder into Harry's ass.

"God, you're so fucking messy.  Completely ruined my outfit, didn't you?"  Louis grinds his hips up into Harry's, creating the sound of damp fabric rutting against damp fabric.

And _yes_.  Yes, he _did_.  He's so fucking proud that he ruined Louis' outfit and his sofa.  God, he wishes he could pee again.  He's overcome with the urge to reach out for the pitcher and dump it all over themselves to feel the sensation of liquid all over their bodies again.

He feels the frantic craving for _more_ as Louis lands a hard slap to the back of his damp thigh. 

"More please!"  Harry grasps onto Louis every place he can.  Clings to him like a koala searching for... something.

"You want some more you greedy boy?"  Louis lands another hard slap to the other thigh.

Harry thrusts forward into his stomach, wanting to spread himself all over Louis.  "Yeah!  Want so much more-" He yelps at another two slaps that sting because of the wet layer coating his skin.

"So noisy baby boy.  I think we should put something in your mouth to keep you quiet."  Louis suggests harshly.

"Your cock, please."  Harry instantly begs.

"Take them off."  Louis snaps the elastic of his underwear.

Harry nearly rolls off Louis' lap- his back landing in his own puddle of piss that's splashes up onto his chest and leaks down the cracks of the cushions.  He shimmies out of them and then holds onto them like a Golden Globe or an Emmy Award and perches himself upon Louis' lap again, admiring the giant yellow stain on Louis' shirt.

"In your mouth."  Louis directs.

Harry's eyes widen as he shoves his underwear directly into his mouth. 

Louis holds onto Harry as he reaches behind and grabs a champagne glass and puts it in Harry's hand.  "If you're a yellow, tap the glass against me.  If you're red, throw it.  Got it?"

Harry nods, urine soaked underwear dripping down his chin and into their laps.

"Show me a yellow."  Louis makes sure he understands.

Harry holds it by the stem and gives two gentle taps to Louis' shoulder. 

"Excellent.  And for red you can throw it behind you so it crashes on the coffee table."  He motions his head towards the table.

Harry grins through his underwear, teeth clamping down and squeezing more liquid from them.  It pools in his mouth, the stale bitter taste of his own piss filling every molecule of air he breathes in.  It's basically the best thing of his entire life.

"Is that the most you can fit in?"  Louis raises an eyebrow.

Fucking _duh_.  Harry is an idiot.  He reaches up with his free hand and greedily pushes more and more wet fabric into his mouth until he can't close his mouth anymore.

"Suck."  Louis brings a hand up to stroke along the column of Harry's neck.

Harry instantly hollows out his mouth, sucking and pulling his own piss out of his underwear and swallowing it as Louis pets his neck over and over again.

"God, so good- _so good_ for me."  Louis tweaks one of Harry's nipples as Harry sucks away hungrily.  "So dirty and perfect.  Fucking perfect."

He's never been happier.  That's the only thing Harry can think as Louis pulls the underwear from his mouth and rubs it across his torso, then threads wet fingers through his hair.  Harry moans at the cold moist trail it leaves behind and presses his naked body closer to Louis to share the sensation with him.  He wants to share fucking _everything_ with him.

"How about you let me taste your mouth now, hmm?"  Louis hardly finishes before Harry is messily French kissing him; giving no thought whatsoever to anything but his tongue in Louis' mouth and the way his dick feels as it fattens up against the wet silk that's clinging to Louis' stomach.

Louis' fingernails nearly puncture Harry's love handles as he guides Harry's hips in a rocking motion towards him.  The fireworks are unrestrained this time as they build up and shoot into every sensory spot on Harry's body.  The pressure build up is everything he wants- _needs_ \- and he holds tighter onto the shoulder pads of Louis' suit jacket, surely ruining them too, as his impending orgasm draws closer.

"God, yes baby."  Louis moans as Harry feels the outline of his cock press against his own through the wet pants.  "Gonna make such a big mess and come all over Daddy."

And in a flash of obsidian memories and shame, Harry reacts with pure instinct when he smashes the champagne glass across Louis' face and bolts for the bathroom.

~~~

**/Sneak peek for next update/**

Desmond is silent for a moment. Then. "I need to cancel my business trip to France tomorrow."

"You can't." Harry says instantly. "You're meeting with a prospective share holder."

"I need you to go in my place." Desmond opens up a desk drawer.

~~~


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N:** Hey there my beloved succubi  <3 I've been traveling the last couple weeks and am currently in Korea, so updating here has been on my mind (yes I see all of your comments reminding me what day it is and how long since the last upload) and my stories are of utmost important to me. I do also have to do adult things unfortunately. So while I strive to be as consist as possible, I do fall short when it comes to AO3 uploads specifically. Reminder that I am on Wattpad with all my stories too, and it is much easier for me to update on there, as I can do it straight from my phone.  That results in Wattpad typically being several chapters ahead until I do one of my mass uploads on A03 haha. Enjoy and comment your hearts out! I love seeing what you guys have to say :)

All the love,

Dannie Ybarra

~~~

  
L

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

"Harry! God- Harry- I didn't- _fuck_ -" Louis jiggles the locked bathroom door handle.

"Go-" sob, "away." Sob.

"Fucking- force of fucking habit-" Louis fucking hates himself. "Please unlock the door. I'm so sorry baby-"

"Don't fucking-" sob, "call me that!" Sob.

" _Harry_." Louis stresses. "Please let me in."

No response. Just more sobbing.

Jesus.

"Harry open the damn door." Louis tries for a punishing tone.

"Go away!" Harry yells- this time without the pause for a sob.

"I'm not leaving until you open the door." Louis threatens.

"Red!" Harry bellows at him. "Red, red, red, red! Go away!"

It's like five giant dagger shanks in his back. All his own fucking fault.

He softens his voice. "Haz, I don't want to leave you alone-"

"Go. Away." Harry's voice becomes steely.

Louis wants to punch his fist into the door, but that would only display undue aggression and this situation certainly doesn't call for any of that.

So he slides down with his back to the door and waits silently.

~~~

It's two hours later when it's nearing midnight. It's been completely silent in the bathroom, save for the occasional sneeze from Harry.

Sneezing because he didn't have proper fucking after care and is sitting, chilled, in his own dried urine. Similar to how Louis is doing in his suit.

And he needs to fucking shower. Not only is he ready to rip his itchy skin off and tend to his open wound, but he has to be in to work tomorrow. He needs a shower before going to bed- which ideally would have been an hour ago- and has no idea how long Harry plans on keeping this up.

"Haz, I need to shower. Will you unlock the door please?" Louis tries.

Silence.

Louis' been getting nothing but the fucking silent treatment for two hours.

"Okay, well I only have one bathroom, so you leave me no choice but to shower elsewhere." Louis explains to him.

Silence.

"If you're awake and alive, please at least throw something at the door so I don't have to call 911." Louis requests.

Shortly after, the sound of one of Louis' glass sculptures comes crashing against the door- one of the chipped off corners sliding underneath the door and next to Louis' seat on the ground.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn't believe in leaving a sub to their own devices whilst sub dropping. It's in his big book of How to be a Bad Dominant 101. But then again, he's broken about a dozen rules in that book with Harry already. And Harry doesn't fucking want him here. It's been _two hours_. And Louis has no idea if Harry intends to wait him out all night long.

"Haz, I can't leave you alone." He says.

Silence.

"What, are you planning on waiting till I leave for work? How about I call in sick tomorrow? What's going to happen when you need to eat? You have to face me at some point." Louis tries reasoning with him.

Silence.

Louis groans.

Then his phone vibrates. It's from Harry.

**Leave if you need to shower. I'm not moving.**

"Harry, please just _talk_ to me." Louis requests.

Harry's response comes via message again.

**Section 1.4.2.**

Louis sighs.

_'If the submissive needs to express his feelings in a way that are not within his role, or he feels uncomfortable with, and would like to discuss terms related to the contract, he will do so via text or email.'_

"Will you text me then? We can work this out. We need to talk." Louis says.

**I'm not moving. Stop trying to talk to me.**

"Haz, it's better if we talk this through tonight. You're going to be in worse condition if you sleep with this weighing on you." Louis tries.

Silence. And not even a text.

"Will you shower at least?" Louis wants for him not just to get clean but to not catch a cold.

He gets a text back.

**I will if you leave.**

"Fine. I'll have my phone with me. I'll text you before coming home okay? Please stay here. We really need to talk about this. And please get something to eat while I'm out." Louis stands up to stretch his locked limbs and take a tired breath before leaving the room.

He calls a cab since he would rather die than sit in his own car in his current state and puts a spare change of clothes in a bag. He buttons his suit jacket up to hide most of the yellow stain on his shirt and tells the taxi driver Niall's address.

~~~

Louis has already knocked three separate times, frustrated because he's about to lose his composure and he can't afford to let Niall see through his ever failing façade.

It's not until the third call that Niall picks up his phone.

"What?" Niall sounds very much still awake.

"Are you home?" Louis squints and looks at his watch. 12:30am.

"I'm just stepping out of a cab." Niall mumbles something off the phone.

"I'm outside your door." Louis grimaces to himself.

"Great. See you in a sec." Niall hangs up.

Louis turns around to stare at the elevators. He taps his foot rapidly, feeling like he might burst apart at the seams, and watches as the elevator charts itself going down to the lobby, then coming back up again.

Niall has his face in two different Roots tablets when he comes walking out of the elevator. He gives a quick glance to Louis, then double- triple takes- until he's full on staring.

"The fuck happened to you?" Niall stares long and hard at him. "You smell like piss and have blood and glass shards on your face."

"Scene gone wrong." Louis ambiguously explains. "I need your shower. Mine has been monopolized."

"God, I'll say. And some first aid." Niall unlocks the door to his flat. "Please don't tell me you're keeping that suit."

"Nope. Bought it for a special event and was going to throw it out after tonight anyway. Suppose you can do me a favor and do that for me?" Louis unbuttons his jacket.

"Jesus, you have actual piss on you." Niall turns to stop gazing at the yellow stain and pulls his kitchen garbage bag out and over to Louis. "Have you at least washed your hands?"

"Nope." Louis says simply.

"Remind me to stop asking questions." Niall mutters.

Louis strips off the rest of his suit and underwear and Rolex and tosses it in the trash bag for Niall to take out.

"Don't touch anything. And don't use my new shampoo. It's organic and way too urbane for the likes of you." Niall tightens the garbage bag and leaves Louis alone in his house.

Niall's apartment is nice. It's a sizable bachelor pad with a few cool features that make it grabbing to the eye. Albeit, more cluttered and smaller than Louis' penthouse, he's come to think of it as a home away from home because of how much time he's spent here.

He drags himself into the shower, grateful as hell for hot water. He hopes Harry is doing the same and taking care of himself while Louis is here. He hopes Harry will pick himself up off the floor since he won't let Louis do it for him.

That's probably what stings most. When subs shut him out. And nothing pisses him off more than getting the silent treatment. It's the hurt and the anger that creates frustration. His whole body is uptight ergo making his skin feel like no matter how hard he scrubs; the tenseness won't come off.

Just chalk up today as more proof for why Louis is a shitty Dom. He doesn't even have enough self-control to keep his wits about him during scenes. It was too good and he forgot his fucking brain to mouth filter. A one second slip up and Louis has royally fucked up. Caused unknown amounts of emotional trauma to his sub. Caused- _possibly_ \- irreversible damage to their relationship. _Again_.

And _Jesus_ , this truly is a sign for Louis to stop what he's doing with Harry.

Louis keeps failing and Harry keeps getting hurt. In turn, Louis is emotionally compromised too. He can't keep going like this.

His first priority is business and that's being affected because he's currently in his best friend's shower at midnight on the other end of town so he can be ready for work tomorrow. He's already called in and missed almost an entire day so he could wait for Harry to wake up in his bed. He's left meetings to tend to Harry the second something is wrong. He's going to show up at work tomorrow with cuts on his fucking face and pray that the already conservative and hesitant president of a research and development firm will take him seriously enough to be able to outsource some of their work there.

He can't do it. This is why he's been alone for two years. He can't carry the responsibility for his end of the relationship. All he's going to continue doing is messing up as a Dom and Harry deserves better than that. _Louis_ deserves better than to berate himself all the time.

He shuts off the shower and dries himself off with a towel, accidentally scrubbing too hard at his cheek where he feels the tiny, embedded glass dig deeper into his skin. He ignores it while blow drying his hair, then gets into the bag of clothes and throws on his skinny jeans and hoodie.

Niall's on the couch with hot tea and a first aid kit. "Do you need to stay here tonight?"

"No, I promised him I'd be back." Louis says. Plus, he needs to talk to Harry.

"You're not planning on stopping by the night diner, are you? Should I chaperone you home?" Niall offers with anything but judgement in his voice.

No. Louis won't be binging tonight. He's established control now. He knows what to do. No binging is necessary. "No, I have a plan."

"Well come sit here and do tell. It's midnight and I don't know how much I trust your judgment skills." Niall pats his couch.

Louis takes the seat next to him. "Don't talk shit. I once decided to IPO our subsidiary at 2am. Called up the team to get the paperwork done and had them public by 4am. One of the best decisions I ever made."

"And then there's that one time in Bali you thought it would be a good idea to drink a shroom shake and threw up all over a gamelan shop." Niall pulls at the skin on Louis' cheek. "It's already infected by the way. You're going to need an anti-biotic assuming something unsanitary broke the skin."

"Yeah, I'll have Zayn pick up some meds tomorrow." Louis sighs. "And I paid for all his damaged instruments the next day and helped him clean. I did manual labor, Niall. Was on my hands and knees cleaning up my own puke."

"Yeah, I was too." Niall chuckles while disinfecting the area. "The award for the Basic Level of Human Decency goes to Louis Tomlinson."

Louis slugs his arm.

"Really though. I was worried up until that point that you had forgot to use your hands for anything other than signing papers and masturbating." Niall teases.

"Oh shut up. I will end you, you jackass." Louis squints at him.

"With what? A luggage cart?" Niall taunts.

"Yes!" Louis' abs clench in laughter at the hundreds of memories he and Niall have with the hotel trolleys. "The fucking gold one with the tarnish at the bottom and the squeaky wheel. It will be your demise!"

"The one Johnny always claimed was his?" Niall cackles. "With his name Sharpied in Korean at the bottom?"

"Exactly!" Louis has too-vivid of memories of the countless times he and Niall had to work with Johnny, and Johnny's ever persistent need to claim certain objects as 'his.'

Their laughs die down as Niall disinfects his cut, puts a band aid on his face, and leans back into the couch.

It's silent for a minute and Louis stares at the painting hung on the wall that he bought for Niall seven years ago on his business trip to India. Underneath it is a writing desk with artfully arranged, color-coordinated souvenirs that Louis has bought for Niall over the years. Things from a Japanese silk fan to an African totem to a Finnish train made of pewter. Everything in a shade of silver like Louis' life.

"You're breaking up with him, aren't you?" Niall shocks Louis from his silence.

"How did you know?" Louis wrings at his wrists, expecting stiff cuffs and diamond cuff links, but only finding the soft material of his hoodie.

"Because I've known you for too long not to know these kinds of things." Niall says simply.

"Yeah." Louis exhales and lays his head on the backrest to stare at the ceiling. "It's not going to work out. I can't do this anymore Niall. I need to stop trying for everyone's sakes."

"As your friend," Niall takes off his glasses and sets them on the table, "you've hardly even tried to make it work out. Don't you think you both deserve to stick in there a little longer? I mean, it's been- what- almost four months you've known him? And you're just in the beginning stages."

Louis scratches at his wrists. "It's gone wrong too many time Ni. We've been trying at it for weeks now and I keep fucking up. _I_. Keep fucking up. I need to realize I'm the problem. Same as I've always been. This time it's just for different reasons."

"Does he hold the fuck ups against you?" Niall asks.

"Well..." Louis scratches at his head.

_'It doesn't matter how long you've done something. Mistakes still get made whether you mean to or not.'_

_'It's okay. I forgive you- I just don't want you to be so hard on yourself.'_

" _No_. He doesn't." Louis says honestly. "But I _really_ crossed a line this time. I don't want to break up with him because I'm a martyr. I want to because it's best for his mental health- and mine too."

"This is still over that one issue from last time?" Niall asks curiously.

"Yeah." Louis says, defeated.

Niall hums and crosses his legs, bouncing a foot up and down.

"What?" Louis knows when Niall wants to say more and doesn't.

"It's not my place." Niall says simply.

Louis lolls his head to the side to stare at him. "You're my best friend. You can give me relationship or life advice or criticism at any time."

Niall huffs out a humorless laugh. "Hard to remember that sometimes when 99 percent of our lives is you treating me like scum."

Louis knows he's a gigantic asshole. "Yeah I should work on that. Business and personal are just so separate for me, you know?"

He's had plenty of people refuse to work with him based off of just his reputation alone. Had plenty of death threats from causes he supports- threatening him to not be public about his opinion because it 'makes them look bad.'

"It is for everyone but yourself." Niall points out. "And Harry."

"What do you mean?" Louis asks.

"Like, everyone else is sectioned off into 'personal' or 'business' in your brain. I get thrown into one section or the other depending on the day and where you're at mentally. But you." Niall looks at him. "Your personal life is working and your work is your personal life. And somehow you're able to blend Harry in with that as well. He gets treated like your boyfriend whether his company is falling to shambles or you're out of the country on business and having four hour Skype conversations at 2am."

"How do you know about those?" Louis asks quizzically.

"I track everything Harry does. _Everything_. I have a phone that is a duplicate of his. I have secondary access to his phone, computer, accounts- everything." Niall grimaces. "Desmond was a bit anal about Harry's budget when he found out he spent a thousand dollars at a hardware store. So I've had to keep close tabs on him since."

Louis smirks. "What the hell does one spend a thousand dollars at the hardware store for?"

"No fucking clue. Go ask your farmer." Niall snorts.

Louis sits up and straightens out his jeans. "Right. I really should get going. He's already dropping and it's just going to be a giant fucking mess for the next little while here."

Niall nods stoically. Always respectful of Louis' lifestyle, even though he doesn't fully understand it. Louis appreciates the hell out of him for it.

Niall walks him to the door and holds it open for him.

Louis pauses before leaving. "What did you want to say earlier?"

Niall looks to the floor, then back up at Louis. "It's really not my place."

"It's fine." Louis leans against the door frame, just wanting a normal friend to give him a normal opinion for once. "You can say it. I won't be mad."

Niall taps on his door handle for a moment before speaking. "You're not any different than the rest of us Louis. Some people cheat- some people gamble. Everyone has the potential to cross lines with their partner. Only, because yours are more... kinky, than what the rest of society experiences, it just makes it more difficult to talk about- I would assume. But you always told me that's the whole point of your relationships- talking openly about the shit you guys do and how to deal with it. So I just don't understand why you're so quick to walk away from your thing with Harry. It just seems really... lazy of you."

Louis blinks at him a couple times. "Lazy."

Niall shrugs. "Do you have a better word for it?"

Louis could say a thousand sharp things that could cut anyone down and put them in their place had they said that to him. But it's Niall. And it's passed midnight. And Louis just wants to cut all the bullshit and have a real conversation.

"I dunno. I just... expect it to end badly I guess." Louis admits, not realizing that had been a huge concern of his until this very moment.

"You would hit me upside the head so fucking hard if I said that to you about my girlfriend." Niall smiles a little and nudges Louis.

Louis cracks a grin. "Yeah I would."

"So then stop expecting the worse." Then Niall changes to a faux offense. "Honestly, I expected more from you Mr. Tomlinson."

"Shut up." Louis rolls his eyes. "You're the one with the virtual girlfriend. You're in no position to judge."

"She lives in Sweden and she's definitely real, thank you very much. Just because we see each other once a year doesn't make her less tangible." Niall defends.

"Uh huh." Louis give him a mocking facial expression, earning him another soft slug on the arm from Niall.

"Anyway. Get back to your cowboy. Let me know if you need anything." Niall says, always the supportive one in Louis' life.

"Thanks. Night." Louis leaves with a wave and texts Harry before getting in a taxi and going back to his house.

~~~

 


	38. Chapter 38

 

~~~

When he walks through the door to his penthouse, it smells like piss.

Of course it does. It's still all over his carpet and couch.

He shoots off a text to Zayn to order him a new white leather sofa and an email to a carpet cleaner.

Normally these kinds of things make him smile. Normally the consequences of scenes are fond memories. Normally Louis is a better Dom.

It's not that he's a _bad_ Dom. He's really just not the _right one_ for Harry. All of Niall's advice aside, there's a point where forcing it to work with someone is against both party's best interest. Letting go of Harry now will make it easier on them both.

He checks the fridge, happy to see that things had been shuffled around, meaning Harry had at least come to look for something to eat. By the bathroom, the air is a little humid and the door is still locked.

"Harry, did you find something to eat?" He asks, not expecting an answer.

His expectations are met with silence.

Alright. No opportunity for small talk then. Unless Louis wants to ramble and try doing a nice build up to break the news. Which he really doesn't.

"Haz, I'm cancelling our contract." Louis says. "You can still stay here tonight if you need."

He hears something akin to a small gasp. His phone vibrates seconds later.

**Why?????**

"Because we _can't_ give each other what we need. We're not a good match. I can refer you to some other great Doms if you'd like." Louis starts mentally putting together a list of people Harry would be better suited for. "And you don't need to text me. You're not my sub anymore. Feel free to yell or cuss or whatever."

**No**

"'No' _what_?" Louis says exasperatedly.

**I don't want anyone else. Please don't cancel the contract.**

"Harry, we need to stop this before it gets out of hand. Neither of us have been able to successfully live up to the terms of the contract anyway which is a dead giveaway that this isn't working out." Louis explains.

**I'm sorry I was a bad sub.**

"You weren't- _aren't_ a bad sub! _Please_ , just come out here and talk to me?" Louis has had it with talking to his bathroom door.

**Will you punish me?**

Louis squints at his phone screen, immediately wanting to exclaim ' _no'_ because _of course_ he's not going to punish Harry. He didn't fucking _do_ anything wrong. Harry should know by now that Louis doesn't abuse punishments.

But after letting the second pass, he realizes Harry isn't scared. He's _asking_ for a punishment.

"You aren't my sub anymore, nor did you do anything to deserve one." Louis says levelly.

**If we both have to sign to be in a relationship, then we both have to agree on the parting terms.**

"Okay." Louis says sarcastically. "What are your terms then?"

**You have to punish me and fuck me.**

"In that order?" Louis snorts.

**Doesn't matter.**

"That was rhetorical." Louis rolls his eyes. "I'm not punishing you."

And he just. Can't. Bring himself to say he won't ever fuck Harry again. Because... he just doesn't want to commit to that right now.

Harry, apparently, catches on instantly though.

**But you'll fuck me?**

"Haz, please come out of the bathroom. I'm sick of talking to my door." Louis ignores him.

**Only if I have your word that you'll fuck me.**

"Sure." Louis says easily. Neither of them specified on a time frame. It can be next week. It can be next year. Doesn't fucking matter to Louis.

**Tonight.**

"No." He responds instantly.

**I've already prepped myself...**

God. Harry fucking Styles. Louis hates him.

"Doesn't change anything." He runs a hand through his hair. "You're not manipulating me with sex or terms or anything else."

**Yes I am.**

And, _Jesus_. The _audacity_ of this man.

"No." Louis directs. "You're fucking not."

**I already have enough times to know how to do it again.**

"God! Harry." Louis loses it. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me? I won't be in a relationship with someone who manipulates me! You think that makes me want to be with you more? All you've promised me is a dysfunctional relationship. _Thanks_ , but no fucking thanks."

**Sorry sir.**

Louis wants to punch the door. Harry's arsenal of tactics _astounds_ him. Makes him want to rip out his eyeballs.

"Stop." He commands. "We're not doing this."

**Yes Mr. Tomlinson.**

"I'm going to bed." Louis announces. "I'll set some pillows and blankets outside the door for you."

**Thank you sir.**

Louis is ready to throw himself from his window. He definitely does not stomp over to his linen closet and then throw the offending blankets and pillows on the floor.

"Sleep well. I'll be up at 6am to work out. I'm more than happy to skip if you're willing to talk by then." Louis says.

 **Goodnight**.

Louis swallows, realizing he's going to have to try and fall asleep to nothing but silence while Harry is in his bathroom. No metal music. No falling asleep to the sound of Harry's voice.

He crawls into bed and lies there in silence for a while until he realizes he has headphones.

As quietly as he can, he rummages through his nightstand to find a spare set and then shoves the buds in his ears and puts on his favorite playlist.

He doesn't realized he's passed out until he jerks awake to the sound of silence again. His room is black.

It takes his eyes a second to adjust and realize Harry had pulled out his earbuds.

"Haz." He croaks.

Harry doesn't look at him. Just lies down, letting Louis be the big spoon.

They both fall asleep within minutes.

~~~

H

Harry dreams in black and shades of silver.

He runs aimlessly, searching for something lighter. Something brighter.

The only light is yellow and it's coming from behind him. Chasing him.

The only light is the one he's running from because he's scared of what he'll see if he turns around.

His head throbs like a fish suffocating above water as his brain fights to only focus forward. Focus on anything but the light.

And the sound.

He turns around to face the light. It's a waterfall, illuminated by yellow spotlights and the second he turns to face it, the second it surrounds him and overtakes him.

He screams and screams and his head keeps trying to fight it. He closes his eyes to escape but feels like he's drowning. It wouldn't matter anyway. He sees himself from outside his body.

The yellow waterfall exposes him. Shows every inch of his shame. It takes over his whole body, rushing in through is ears and his nose and his mouth and he cries because he can't escape it.

The silver outside of him is the only thing that can make it go away, but he knows it's also the silver presence that is the reason for the yellow waterfall in the first place. The reason for the shame and horrific embarrassment.

He pulls his arms around his abdomen to try and save himself. To try and stop it from happening. He knows it's inevitable, but it's terrifying thought rather than a comforting one.

"Harry, wake up baby." The silver says softly to him.

He cries as the shame overtakes him.

"Baby." The silver reaches out to him and shakes him from the darkness. Pulls him out from drowning and disgrace.

Harry's eyes fly open as he feels water rush down his legs. Louis is standing over him at the edge of his bed. Harry instantly covers his face with the pillow, mortifying memories surging up like a panic attack.

_'Mind helping me relieve myself?'_

_'Of course. Anything.'_

Harry clenches his jaw, headache coming on instantaneously as he attempts to shut it off.

_'Don't let it spill on my pretty white leather couches.'_

_'Mind cleaning me off?'_

_'How's the temperature of your drink?'_

"Baby, are you alright?" Louis sets a soft hand on his shoulder, feeling like he's just been punched.

_'You aren't thirsty anymore?'_

_'I am.'_

_'Then why didn't you finish your glass?'_

"No, no, no! Don't touch me!" Harry curls in on himself, manically yanking the blanket to cover more of his body.

"You should get out of bed." Louis' voice makes his whole body quake.

_'Why don't you come and sit on my lap?'_

Harry shakes his head violently into the mattress, praying Louis will leave him alone.

"Baby, the bed is messy..." Louis says, strained.

_'Don't you love my pretty sofa baby? And my nice new suit?'_

_'Yes sir.'_

_'How would you like to make it messy with me, hmm?'_

_'Yeah.'_

"Go away." Harry's voice cracks into a whisper.

_'You want me to pee on you?'_

_'Yeah. You think you can do that to please me?'_

_'Yes sir.'_

"Let me help you." Louis' voice rings through his body like it might be somewhere between his memory and his present. "Look at me love."

_'Need some help baby?'_

_'Yes please.'_

_'Gonna piss all over me baby?'_

"Stop- stop!" Harry clenches the pillow tighter around his ears to block out the fucking humiliation.

"Love, I'm not- I'm not doing anything. I'm right here, okay baby? Let me just help you into the tub." Louis' voice is muted through the goose down feathers muffling Harry's hearing.

_'Gonna make me and my expensive sofa so messy with your pee?'_

_'You're so full already, aren't you? You drank so much water and drank my piss like a good boy, didn't you?'_

_'That's right. So good for me baby.'_

Harry mouths 'stop' over and over again into the linens that are starting to feel moist. Starting to smell like urine. He whines in pain.

_'Got so much piss in you, don't you?'_

_'God, you're so fucking messy. Completely ruined my outfit, didn't you?'_

It's like he can feel the pee drying on him all over again. The cold breeze that accompanied the shiver of satisfaction.

_'More please!'_

_'You want some more you greedy boy?'_

_'Yeah! Want so much more-'_

The feeling of euphoria as Louis pushed his limits further and further. As Harry let Louis push him as much as he wanted.

"Shh, baby, it's okay. Come into the bathroom with me?" Louis says gently.

And Harry _tried_. He _tried_ to be silent. He tried to muffle his sobs in the bathroom last night. Tried to let out his self-loathing and anger on himself into Louis' terrycloth towels. Tried to bury himself in the silver until he couldn't breathe anymore. Until he became so lightheaded from lack of oxygen that there was finally peace from the vivid memories.

_'So noisy baby boy. I think we should put something in your mouth to keep you quiet.'_

_'Your cock, please.'_

_'Take them off.'_

But it's morning and they keep pounding their fists against every corner of Harry's brain. Not letting him forget how much he had humiliated himself.

"Love, you wet the bed. Let me take care of you." Louis says delicately.

_'God, yes baby. Gonna make such a big mess and come all over Daddy.'_

"Red!" Harry screams into the pillow. "Red! Red!"

"I'm right here. It's just me- it's okay-" Louis pleads.

"Go away!" He yells.

"Damn it!" Louis' voice goes stern. "Snap out of it Harry! I'm picking you up and taking you into the bathroom. You can keep the pillow if you're so damn insistent that you don't look at me."

Harry suddenly feels his burden lifted- now torn away from the memories- and a white hot yearning for his Dom. His Dom who wraps his arms and holds him securely. Harry doesn't let go of the pillow yet, but he also doesn't struggle because he doesn't want Louis to _ever_ let go of him.

The emotion doesn't come on like a tidal wave. It comes on like a fucking tsunami and he promptly drops the pillow to the floor and buries his face in Louis' chest to bawl.

Jesus, Harry almost _lost_ Louis last night. Louis tried to _break up_ with him. Louis wanted to leave him. Harry had been so embarrassing that Louis couldn't even stand to be with him anymore. Those moments- the only thing Harry could cling to- was the desire to keep Louis. He couldn't lose him like _that_. Not yet. He had to prove that he could be better.

He can keep him. He _can_. He'll do it by any means necessary.

He just wasn't ready to look Louis in the eye yet. Not after what he had done. He will keep Louis, but he can't ever look him in the eye again.

"It's okay Haz. I've got you." Louis rubs small circles into his arm and gently lowers them both into the tub.

"You've got me." Harry repeats.

"I've got you. I'm right here." Louis reinforces.

"You're here." Harry doesn't let go when Louis tries slipping him out of his lap.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Louis threads a hand up into Harry's curls to try and sooth him.

"Yeah." Harry whispers.

"Do you want to talk to me about it?" Louis suggests.

"No." Harry says, feeling the shame wash over him again. And _God_ , did Louis say he _wet the bed_? "Let go of me please."

Louis' arms instantly release Harry and he slides as far away from Louis as he can. "What's wrong? Talk to me baby."

Harry shakes his head and grabs the soap to start rubbing it into his filthy skin.

"Would you prefer to wait so we can talk about it via email or text?" Louis asks.

Harry shakes his head again, not wanting to speak and reveal more of himself than he already has to Louis.

"Our relationship aside, it is vital we discuss what happened- for both of our sakes Harry. You can't just float around the rest of your life without closure on what happened." Louis says like he's dressed in one of his fancy suits and not naked in a bubble bath with Harry.

And the words- 'rest of your life,' 'closure'- they're all very final words. Words that sound like a break up. Which they decidedly aren't doing. At least not on Harry's watch. And, simply for fear of Louis trying to take it that route again, Harry speaks up.

"I don't need to talk about it." He gets some soap on his hand and reaches down to clean his groin; wincing at the two times it's betrayed him in the last 24 hours. He's determined not ever let it happen again.

"Yes you do." Louis corrects.

"No." Harry murmurs.

"Then look at me." Louis challenges.

Harry shakes his head.

"Do you even _understand_ what's going on in your brain right now?" Louis waves his hand in the air, some water flecks splashing around. "You don't. But I do."

"They why would you do that to me?" Harry speaks down at the water.

"Which thing Harry? The scene wasn't _supposed_ to end that way." Louis emphasizes. "That was another fuck up of _mine_. This obviously isn't working out for me which is why-"

Harry interrupts before he can continue on with that thought. " _No_ \- why would you do it in the first place if you were thinking that way the whole time? You almost called yourself it earlier. You were thinking it the whole time. Why would you do that to me?"

"I don't- I didn't-" Louis stutters like Harry's never heard him do. "Harry. I combat those thoughts every. Single. Time. We do a scene together. That's all I've known for- _fuck_ \- eight years. It wasn't anything personal against you. I wasn't trying to con you into doing what I wanted if that's what you're thinking."

Harry doesn't say anything. Doesn't even know what to say back to that. He just feels like the blue of the bath salt may seep into every pore of his skin and drag him underwater.

He thinks maybe it would be nice. Maybe it would be more peaceful underwater where his brain wouldn't be thinking so much. Where nothing exists except water. Clean water.

He closes his eyes and slides down.

It's everything he hoped for. The water floods into his ears peacefully- unlike the rushing waterfall that overtook his body last night. It's calming and soft. Welcoming and warm.

The more he needs air, the lighter he feels, and he exhales the remaining air in his lungs to try and sink to the bottom of the tub; pretending it's the ocean floor thousands of miles below the terrible, terrible earth he lives on-

"Harry!" Louis yanks him up with a loud _whoosh_ of water that spills all over the sides of the tub.

Harry's curls plaster heavily on his skin and drip a constant stream of liquid as he chokes out water he had accidentally inhaled. He coughs as Louis pats him on the back a couple times, then swats his Dom's hands away from him.

"Baby, come here." Louis tries to reach for him again.

Harry turns away to stare blankly out the window. His headache returns full force. He hates it here. He hates New York. He hates his life.

"God- Haz." Louis sounds frustrated.

And Harry did that. Harry made him frustrated. Harry always makes him fucking frustrated. Harry made him binge and Harry makes him stressed. It's all Harry, Harry, Harry. Everything is _his_ fault.

He brings his fists up to his eyes at the sudden onset of blurry burning. " _Why_ is this _happening_ to me?!" Harry wails, emotions spiraling out of control and head pounding again.

There's a small intake of breath from Louis. "You're experiencing sub drop, baby-"

"What's _wrong_ with me? _Why_ did I do all those things last night?" Harry shamefully sobs, guilty memories of drinking his Dom's urine out of a champagne glass then peeing all over him, making him want to vomit.

" _Nothing_ is wrong with you. This is _my_ fault. It's me. _I'm_ the problem. This is _my_ fault." Louis says with all the gentle passion in the world. "You're perfect darling. Did everything perfectly-"

"Then _why_ d'you wanna break up with me?" Harry hiccups and cries harder.

"Because- _because_ it's not going to be the last time that happens Harry. I'm going to call myself- _that_ \- again. You're going to get traumatized again. I'm going to not have time to do scenes and aftercare with you because I _need_ to be running my business. I was indulgent to even fantasize that this could work out anyway. My life isn't meant for relationships. Even with fucking amazing people like you- I can't make this work." There's a small splash of water behind him.

Harry wants to drown himself. That's the only thing his brain can process right now. He wants to either rewind time to yesterday to undo everything that he did, or drown himself, because he can't fucking live _here_ without Louis. He doesn't know if he can live anywhere without Louis.

"I'll be better-" He begs. "I'll- be better. _Please_."

"Baby come here." Louis scoots closer to him and Harry doesn't fight it this time when Louis cradles him in his arms.

"I don't wanna lose you." Tears stream freely down Harry's cheeks.

"You're not losing me. I'm still here. You can talk to me any time, you know that? You can always talk to me okay?" Louis reassures.

Harry shakes his head and stumbles out of the tub to leave Louis' house as quickly as he can.

~~~

 


	39. Chapter 39

 

~~~

H

Harry runs the streets of New York, lights flashing by like a million strobe lights disorienting him.  He can't think.  He can't think.  He _won't_ think.  He couldn't if he wanted to. 

Louis is gone.  Louis is gone.  Louis doesn't want him and Louis is gone.  Louis doesn't want him.

He runs across the street, praying a car will hit him.  Horns blare at him and vibrate through his whole body, making him nauseous.  He grabs his stomach and makes it to the sidewalk where he vomits on an empty pack of cigarettes and banana peel. 

When he looks up, he sees blurry faces and figures passing him by.  How the fuck does he fix this?  How can he make time stop?  How can he numb the feelings?

He doesn't have anyone in the world he wants to call right now except for Louis.  He doesn't have anyone to talk to.  He doesn't have anywhere to go that feels safe.  He's stuck in the streets of New York and has to go back to his horrible, half lived-in apartment.  He doesn't have the stability of his cows, the familiarity of his farm, the sound of crickets, or the creek. 

He doesn't realize he had started running again until he trips and twists his ankle on the curb.  He stares at the scrape on his shin that's coated in gravel and starting to prick with blood.  He looks up and stares at the glass window of the store in front of him.

Maybe they'll have band-aides. 

When he staggers in, the fluorescent lights buzz through his ears and dilate his eyes to twice their size.  The cashier is staring at him, but Harry doesn't notice.  He walks in a daze to the closest shelf. 

It doesn't register that he's in the liquor store until he picks up the bottle and reads the vodka label.  He stares at it, trying to find a reason why it won't help.

When Harry sets it at the register, he stares at the cashier with glazed eyes that don't even see him.

The cashier's mouth moves.  Several times.  Harry stares at the counter until he decides to give the man a 50-dollar bill; then leaves.

The cap is off by the time he's reached the curb, and he's started drinking it like water after a run by the time he hails a cab.  He cries like he's mentally disconnected from the emotion and has to stop drinking so that he can climb in the back of the taxi.

He shouts out his address, then falls against the window to sob.  His breath fogs up the window and he can feel the cold glass against his cheek.  He can feel his body shaking and his hands trembling.  He can feel his heart racing and pounding and aching.

He can still feel, and he glares at the bottle in his hands, wanting it to kick in quicker.  He drinks more.

Some liquid sloshes over the top and dribbles out of his mouth when the taxi suddenly halts.  Harry takes a half second to note that they've arrived.  He throws wads of cash at the man, then stumbles up to his apartment.

He locks the door behind him and collapses onto his knees in the middle of his living room.  He drinks to try and suppress the tears that flow like they'll never stop, but finds that its only enhancing his agony.  Songs and movies lie when they say that drinking numbs the pain.  Harry has never felt so aware of his anguish.

Slumped on the floor, not quite sitting and not quite laying down in his drunken state, he whines and whimpers to the void for Louis; saying his name over and over.  From a whisper to a plead, he calls out for the only person he needs right now.  The person that doesn't need him.

What's most surprising to Harry is leaving Grady after 25 years didn't hurt a fraction of being dumped by someone of several months. So fuck Louis. Fuck Harry for fucking Louis and fuck Harry for letting it go here.

And now that Harry's accepted himself, he knows that all he fucking wants is Louis. He smells Louis all around and it's driving him crazy. But that's to be expected because Louis' always made him crazy. Maybe it was his crazy that pushed Louis away.  Maybe it was Louis' crazy that doesn't allow him to be with Harry.  The point is, he's here and now Louis is gone and he wonders how much farther down the bottle he has to get until Louis is back next to him.

He looks into the vodka that's only mixed with tears, regret, and self-hate; just when he thought he was getting to a good place. He thought he loved Louis. He loved that Louis challenged him and surprise, surprise... Here Louis is, challenging Harry yet again. Giving Harry more than he thought he could handle and forcing him to deal with it.

And honestly, it looks like Louis is right. This time he pushed Harry not just over the edge but off the fucking cliff. Fuck Louis and fuck Harry for letting Louis fuck with his heart.

The sounds echoing off the wall reminds him that he's still crying out for Louis.  He still hears the vacancy of the two-syllable name bouncing emptily from wall to wall like it's the only word that he'll ever speak again.  Because Louis' name is the one thing that saves and condemns him.

For an imperceptible moment, the walls look a little clearer, and he wonders if he's coming down.  That's an unacceptable option because there's no way in hell he's about to let myself come down from this and crash to the place where reality is somewhere Louis is not. So back into the bottle he goes, even as his stomach starts protesting. He hopes he drink till he pukes and maybe- _maybe_ \- it will get rid of the sorrow too. Right now Harry hopes to just stay drunk for the rest of his life because he can't live without Louis.

He doesn't actually know how much he's drank, but apparently not enough because he's still thinking of Louis and his god damned heart won't stop bleeding and hurting.  He's not sure if Louis' presence would help or hurt more.

If only Louis knew he was _it_.  That Harry knew there wasn't anyone he'd want ever again. He was with Louis and he was fucking happy. He _was,_ and Louis ripped that away from him.

So he laughs pitifully through his sobs, hoping that Louis will be entertained with watching as Harry stumble to pick up the shattered pieces of his life and tape them back together. He hopes sadistically that Louis views him as he apparently always has- as dispensable- and without any remorse in leaving Harry behind. Louis can go do what he wants without regard to Harry. He can go do what the fuck he wants and not worry about Harry. It's fine that he doesn't care.

Fuck him. Literally. Louis can go fuck himself and his bullshit. Caring about Harry means making compromise. Fuck Louis' contract compromises and supposed values and mantras for life. God that's rich. Louis is fucking hilarious. Going against what he's permanently inked onto paper to remember because he obviously is fantastic at forgetting it. Real quick to forget it. That's fucking fine. To each their own. He can be a double standard asshole. That sounds like their entire relationship. It really does. That's what everyone else would have seen and it's what Harry felt too, but never worried about. Why? Because Harry fucking loves Louis.

He feels fucking stupid because this is definitely a million times harder on him than it is on Louis. Louis' probably had weeks to come to terms with this shit. He's had- what- two hours? Sweet. Thank the gods for Louis' notorious narcissism. Really goes along nicely with Louis' whole sentiment of not just burning their contract on a whim.

Fuck Louis. He fucking _hates_ Louis, and he hates that he'll never know how much this hurts him that it doesn't hurt Louis.

He knows he deserved it though.  He deserves all of the bad things.  The mere fact that he can't even handle this break up alone is proof enough why he deserves to be alone.  He can almost see Louis reprimanding him for it.

"I only did it because I couldn't think!"  Harry defends against the void.  "I couldn't stop crying and would rather pass out from alcohol than hurting for you. I couldn't drive anyway. I wouldn't have been able to because I'd break down every 10 minutes and couldn't hold myself together like I try so fucking hard to do around you. _You_ make me be better. _You_ make me try harder. _You_ make me _feel-_ and, and- God damn it I fucking _hate_ that. Even through all the alcohol I still feel that. You made me _feel_! _You_ made me. I couldn't do fucking anything to stop it."

God he finally feels calm. Thank Go-

Black.

~~~

Waking up feels like being jolted alive by a defibrillator that choruses the welcoming song to Hell.  He's still drunk.  He's sweating.  The vodka bottle is tipped over and his shirt is on the floor and he is, unsurprisingly, convulsing with tears that won't fucking stop because he just wants Louis. And he hates that he wants him.

He wonders if the pain was too strong to let his body rest even for a couple minutes.  He lets his hand fall onto his phone to shakily push the home button for the time.  All he can hear is himself crying.

He stares at the numbers, not able to make any sense of them.  He only knows that he's not asleep and he's still in pain.  So, like his brain and body have no say in the matter; like gravity, Harry reaches for the vodka again, praying that he poisons himself.

That's the last thought he has before staggering into the bathroom and vomiting out the overdose of alcohol.  He cries with relief and cries with agony as the toxins expels themselves from his body. 

He vomits twice, three times, four times, and then the cool tile greets his skin with the soothing sound of Louis' voice.

~~~

It's a week later and Harry's been a zombie at work every day.  Lost a little more emotion each day and has less sympathy for people around him.

Alcohol didn't work, so Harry tries to shut off his capacity to feel.  He won't let himself feel that volume and depth of pain ever again.

When Liam had finally gotten the courage to talk to Harry about the marks he had seen, Harry had told him to shut the fuck up and never bring it up again.

Liam hasn't brought it up again.

Niall's been giving him odd looks when the pass in the hallway.  Harry's been delegating more shit to him as his own work load has increased.

A tabloid had written some story about all the reasons they thought Louis and Harry were secretly seeing each other.  Harry had found the author, then tweeted her letting her know to mind her own damn business, then hired an independent contractor to get her fired from her job.

All the while, he stares at everything a little vacantly.  Stares at the NYT Crossword Puzzle that he still can't grasp.  Stares out the windows without looking for anything.  Stares at his computer and wishes it would spontaneously combust and take him with it.  Stares at people inferior to him to remind them that life is shitty.  That New York is shitty.

He tweets exactly that.

**New York is shitty.**

Sarah deletes the tweet and drafts him a gently worded email on why he can't tweet those kinds of things.  He's glad he has someone who remembers how to do her job.

Pablo tells him his spark of 'passion' had died.  That Harry needed it if he wanted to be successful in relations with the public.  Harry told him he didn't need his services anymore and has since stopped going to lessons.

Cecelia had finally called Harry out after not wearing a tie for the third day in a row and the buttons kept becoming less and less relevant to Harry.  He swapped suit coats in favor of a simple pea coat for the way to work and decided he likes his Chelseas best because they're a simple slip-on.

She had strongly suggested his shirts become 'less flamboyant' and his 'overall appearance more conforming.'

Harry tweeted his opinions on the matter.

**Fuck conformity.**

Sarah, again, had deleted it moments later and told Harry she would have to restrict access to his account if he used profanity or negative implications on any more tweets.

Lenny.  He just lets Harry sit.  Harry sat at their table and glared at the vacancy in the atmosphere.  He'd read every book on the bookshelf by now and decided being a leader is all smoke and mirrors and bullshit.

He said as much to Lenny and Lenny didn't respond to the statement.

The cane marks are mostly a light green or yellow color- save for the still light blue one on his ass where the skin broke.  His skin is ugly and splotchy and it's an outward parallel to how he feels inside.

So it's with enervation that he goes to bed every night.  And indignity that he wakes up to every morning, because every night he has the same nightmare; and every morning he wakes up alive and wetting the bed.

Part of it certainly has to do with the fact that Harry downright refuses to go to the bathroom anymore.  Not during the day.  Not while he consciously has a decision over it. 

He knows it's causing him to be terribly dehydrated, which, in turn, has caused him to stop working out because his body would reject that whole-heartedly.  So he doesn't work out.  He restricts his dick firmly when his body has to attend to other business.  And he doesn't pee.

He'd rather die than watch or feel himself pee ever again.

So it's both unsurprising and humiliating that he's just taken to sleeping on a tarp after changing his sheets two days in a row. 

And every night, he falls asleep with the New York Times crossword puzzle blank on his chest.

~~~

L

Louis has been a dick all week at work.  Not like it's much different than he usually is.  But Zayn has definitely noticed.

He was surprised, more than anything, at the affect Harry out of his life has caused.  He's mostly pissed that the small bit of satisfaction that he _could_ take from clubs has freshly been ruined for him in comparison to what he's had with Harry.  He wonders how his cane bruises are doing.  He wonders what Harry wears each day. 

He wonders if Harry thinks of him.

He's really clamped down on his workout routine and gotten everything in his life back in order.  His carpets are cleaned and his new replica leather sofa is in his house.

He's never felt so unenthused about life.

~~~

H

Harry's sitting at his desk in his blank office.

He stares at the crossword puzzle front of him.

"Fuck this."  He mutters to himself.

Three knocks, then the door opening, startle Harry to sit straighter in his seat.

Niall is in his doorway and closes the door behind him without asking permission to do so.  He also isn't holding any of his phones or tablets.

"What do you want?"  Harry puts the newspaper off to the side, sure that Niall is going to tell him he did something wrong and has to go fix it.

"We need to talk."  Niall says without moving.

Harry pauses as he's about to stand up.  "About what?"

Niall sighs.  "Can I sit down?"

Harry scrunches his eyebrows.  This is not normal Niall.  This is not about work.  "Yeah."

Niall takes a seat on the opposite side of Harry's desk.  "You've been vacant lately."

Harry doesn't say anything.

"It's affecting your work ethic."  Niall continues.

He stares down at his desk.  Out of all the things... that hasn't ever been a problem for him.

"Look, Harry."  Niall takes of his glasses and folds them in his lap.  "I don't know what's been going on in your personal life, but you need to know we all have shit that we have to deal with.  We all go through deaths, break ups, financial problems, and any number of other things that can traumatize us.  Harry, you're the son of the Roots CEO.  You're preparing to take over one of the largest companies in the world.  People's careers, lives, and the global economy are at stake with you acting how you are.  Pull your shit together because companies aren't run by emotions."

Harry doesn't move.  He doesn't know if he could anyway.  He has no clue what to say.

Niall sighs.  "I empathize with you because I can only imagine what happened if it has you to be at the point that you're at.  But here, on Wall Street, is the place where you leave that shit behind.  That doesn't have to be you.  Let this," he motions to Harry in his button up and suit pants, "be you.  Be the stronger, business version of yourself and it will carry into your personal life too."

Harry's mouth hangs open a little bit, brain short wiring and of no use to him.

"Hope you get feeling better soon."  Niall gives him a tight lipped smile, puts his glasses back on, then leaves.

Harry sits alone in his empty office staring at the wall.  There's nothing in his brain.  Well, nothing except Niall's words.  And that's all that's there.  And it's all that makes sense.

He closes his mouth and turns to look at himself in the mirror on the wall.  Who even is he anymore? 

He watches himself breathe in and out for a minute until he realizes he has to rewrite that for himself.  He's not Harry from Kentucky anymore.  He's Harry who has to survive in New York for another four months.  People's livelihoods depend on it.

So he'll have to be more present. It doesn't mean he has to be happy. Just more present. Presently, he's bitter. And bitterness is certainly an easy enough thing for him to channel. He can be bitter and successfully run this damn company for as long as he's forced to. People rely on him and he'll have to make sure they believe in him too. He can do this.

It's a dog eat dog world here, and though Harry would never eat a dog in a million years, he's going to have to at least start acting like he would.

He bites his lip and pulls his keyboard out to get back to work.

~~~


	40. Chapter 40

~~~

H

"Harry you haven't come to a company party in weeks."  Desmond glances from his watch back to the stack of papers in front of him.

"I don't know why it matters.  It's just an excuse for everyone to get drunk."  Harry murmurs, sending an email to a motivational speaker for a leadership training he's setting up.

"It matters that they see their boss in a capacity that isn't just on a billboard on their way to work."  Desmond says.

"They _don't_.  I interact with more people in this company in a day than you do in an entire year."  He sneers at his phone.

Desmond's eyebrows both raise at that.  "Harry, are you alright?"

"I'm fucking fine."  He gives his father the courtesy of a quick glance.  "Is that all you need me for?"

Desmond sighs.  "Look, I won't get on your case for this Friday; but next Friday is Thanksgiving.  The least you can do is spend it with your family."

Harry scoffs.  "My _family_ is in Kentucky."

"This company is your family now.  I expect you to treat it as such."  Desmond places both hands on his desk.

" _This company_ stole me from my family.  _This company_ is my _entire_ fucking _life_ , so I don't want to hear about your bullshit expectations on how you expect me to treat it.  I'm leaving next year anyway."  Harry seethes.

"You can't make that decision until March 26th."  Desmond's voice tightens.

"It's _been_ my decision since the day you kidnapped me and forced me here.  It's not changing any time soon."  Harry says icily.

Desmond is silent for a moment.  Then.  "I need to cancel my business trip to France tomorrow."

"You can't."  Harry says instantly.  "You're meeting with a prospective share holder."

"I need you to go in my place."  Desmond opens up a desk drawer.

"I hate flying, I don't have a passport or a visa, and I don't know fucking shit about wining and dining assholes."  Harry responds easily.

"You're going to make several flights between now and March, so I think it would be wise for you to face your fears now."  Desmond says so much more blandly than how Louis would have said it to him.

Louis.  Fucking Louis.

Harry clenches his thighs tighter together.

Fuck Louis.

Desmond continues on as if Harry's brain isn't destroying itself.  "I've already had a passport made for you."  He sets it on the table.  "You don't need a visa for France, and he doesn't need wining and dining.  Mr. Pierre simply wants to meet you.  He requested you over me."

"Why?"  Harry asks, barely hanging on to the content of the conversation anymore.

"Because the company will be in your hands in January.  He doesn't want to invest if he doesn't have faith in the future CEO."  Desmond explains.

"That's fucking retarded."  Harry decides everyone in business is a jerk.  Everyone.

"It's up to you to make sure he has confidence in Roots."  Desmond says.

"Sure."  Harry rolls his eyes.  "Dominique's coming with me then."

"You won't need a translator.  Everyone speaks English in the airport and you have a chauffeur set up for you."  Desmond says.

"What am I supposed to do on a plane for 24 hours then?"  Harry's frustration only rises.

"It's only seven hours and ten minutes."  Desmond reasons.  "I'd like to request that you wear your nicest suits and not these," he waves his hand in the air, "flamboyant fashion statements of yours."

Harry doesn't even bother arguing back.  He'll wear what he fucking wants and he'll ruin the deal with Mr. Pierre and maybe his father will send him back to Kentucky early.

He gets up and leaves the office.  He can finish all of his work from his house today anyway.

~~~

L

Another week later and Louis' inbox is at zero.  His messages are all attended to.  His to-do lists have all been completed.  There are 20 new hired and trained employees to fill in the missing gaps.  He spoke at a fundraiser luncheon today and Zayn is an actual duplicate of himself. 

There are upcoming events and contracts that Zayn has in the que, just waiting for the day to carry everything out without flaw.  A network has been trying to reach him for a documentary and an author has been harassing Zayn to write a detailed biography on Louis.

Things are great.  Things are like clockwork.  Black Friday is coming up and since all the idiots used their unplanned Christmas vacation time for Halloween, they aren't going anywhere for Thanksgiving and all they have to focus on is work.  They're projected for 368 million in phone sales alone and his company is prepared.

So he's treating Zayn and Gigi for brunch out at Dovetail NYC and they're having a splendid time together as Gigi discusses opening night and how one of the back-up dancers broke her foot before the intermission and continued on with the entire performance flawlessly.

That's the kind of determination Louis appreciates.  People who overcome demanding circumstances.  People like himself.

He's pulled from the riveting story by his phone lighting up next to his dish of butter poached king trumpet mushrooms and quirks an eyebrow when he sees Desmond's name on his screen.

He silences it though, as they collectively agreed to no working during their brunch.  Zayn orders another glass of Pinot Noir for everyone and Louis' phone lights up again with another call from Desmond.

"Pardon me.  Do you mind?"  He directs his questions towards Gigi.

"Not at all."  Gigi takes a sip of her wine.

Zayn gives Louis an odd look.

Louis motions for Zayn to screen the call on his replicated phone of Louis' too as he answers.  "I'm at brunch.  Can I give you a call back in an hour?"

"What are you playing at Louis?"  Desmond asks on the other end of the line.

"Excuse me?"  Louis and Zayn raise eyebrows at each other.  Gigi leans forward in interest.

"What's your price?"  Desmond asks.

Louis blinks a few times.  "If you're referring to my brunch, I project it will be upwards of 300 for all of us, but there's plenty of room at the table if you would like to join."

"Please, for _once_ , drop the act."  Desmond begs.

Louis mouths a 'what the fuck' to Zayn to see if he's missing anything.  Zayn shrugs, just as lost as Louis is.

"Desmond, I honestly have no clue what you're talking about."  Louis says genuinely.

"I'm talking about _Harry_."  Desmond says like it explains everything.

Louis' heart unnecessarily beats a little faster.  He is not emotionally connected to Harry.  He _is not_ emotionally connected to Harry.  He repeats it one more time before responding.  "What about him?"

"Damn it Tomlinson!  You're ruining my company from the inside out!  What are you doing to my son?!"  Desmond yells.

Oh.  Okay.  Interesting.

"Look, I haven't talked to Harry in almost two weeks.  I haven't the slightest idea what is going on with him."  Louis says honestly.  Even his innocuous and inquiring texts to Harry were left unresponded to.

"What?"  Desmond barks.

"We broke up two weeks ago."  Louis frowns down at his plate of mushrooms.  "What's going on?"

"You broke up."  Desmond parrots.

"Yes I believe that's the colloquial term for what normative persons describe as parting ways with one another."  Louis deadpans.

Gigi cackles and Zayn presses his lips tightly together to suppress making any noise.

"Oh God."  Desmond exhales in what definitely does _not_ sound like relief. 

"Is he... doing alright?"  Louis slides his tongue across his teeth.  He's made it a point to not ask Niall about Harry.  Niall has made it a point to not bring up Harry.

"No."  Is all Desmond says.

"Well I'm sorry to hear that."  Louis takes on a lighter air of speaking.  "Not all of us are cut out for running a Wall Street enterprise."

"I need him to want to stay here.  I- I need him to run this company.  I need to leave my legacy for him."  Desmond says, sounding a lot like the night Louis had found him up in his penthouse.

"You may need that, but what does Harry need?  You can't take the farmer out of the cowboy... or something."  Louis takes another hearty gulp of his fresh glass of wine.

"You can convince him to stay here."  Desmond says.

Louis humors him for a moment before answering.  "No.  I actually can't." 

"You _can_.  You're the only thing that could get him to stay here.  Please.  Just long enough for him to sign on as full time CEO.  I thought seven months would be long enough to tie him down here, but now that we're halfway there... he needs something more.  He needs emotional leverage that will make him want to stay here for years."  Desmond spills all his thoughts to Louis.

Louis would have bet his left nut over the chance of this kind of conversation ever happening in his lifetime.  He's not really sure what to do about it all.

"Harry isn't _like_ us.  The fact that he needs something other than business to keep him here just shows that he doesn't belong here at all.  And typically break ups are for a reason.  Ours being that we weren't compatible- which-" Louis snaps his fingers, "I have _you_ to thank for that too!  So I really have nothing to contribute to this conversation.  I'm sorry."

"You... care about each other."  Desmond sounds incredibly pained to say it out loud.

"Cared.  Past tense."  Louis corrects.

"Don't bullshit me!"  Desmond snaps.  "You didn't break into my home to assault me because you had fair weathered feelings about him.  Same reason I stood behind my wife when she needed me."

"Oh _don't_ go there with me Desmond.  The difference between you and me is that you couldn't ever _pay_ me enough money to blackmail Harry like you did to your ex-wife."  Louis forgets that he's supposed to be detached from this conversation.

"But could I pay you enough to... to keep him emotionally invested?"  Desmond phrases like saying anything more specific might infect him.

Louis scoffs.  "I don't need your money.  There's nothing you could possibly offer me Desmond.  Harry is a grown man who will make the choices he pleases." 

"I'm friends with District Judge Walden."  Desmond lets the silence sit as Louis' breath marginally hitches.  "I think you'll find that I can, in fact, offer you something of value."

Zayn's eyes snap up to Louis'.  Which is fair.  Zayn doesn't know this part about Louis yet.  Louis hoped he never had to.

District Judge Walden is the reason his dad is in prison for life; and he's the only one who can exonerate him.

Louis had tried for years- _years_ \- to get him to rescind or lessen the sentence.  Offered him everything money could buy and then some.  But the judge never did.  He let Louis' dad get imprisoned wrongly, and after everything short of torture, Louis could not get him to change his mind- couldn't even find out what the hell the judge has against his family in the first place.

So the fact that Desmond has Louis' only ticket for his dad's freedom... well.  Louis would do anything for that.

And Harry.  Well Harry is going to be the unfortunate receiving end of Desmond and Louis' desperation.  Harry is going to be a pawn in their chess game.  Harry isn't going to have any idea what's coming to him because Louis is prepared to do fucking anything.

He swallows.  "I'll talk to him tonight." 

"Please do.  He leaves for France tomorrow and I need him at the top of his game."  Desmond says.

Louis rubs at his forehead with his free hand.  "I can't guarantee anything."

"I've yet to see you fail at something you put your mind to."  Desmond responds.

Louis nods to himself.  "I'll have my P.A. keep you updated."

"Have a blessed day."  Desmond says.

"Go to hell."  Louis mumbles before hanging up.

Zayn already has his tablet open, ready for Louis' instruction.

"And I thought these kinds of things only happened in movies."  Gigi seems amused.

"We're finishing brunch.  Like normal people."  Louis throws her a sarcastic smile.  "And then when we get back to the office, Zayn, I need you to arrange for power of attorney over me.  As soon as that's done, we're hiring three P.A.'s to take your place, as you'll be intermittent CEO when I can't make it to the office.  Accept or decline."

Zayn doesn't even look to Gigi before responding.  "Accept."

Gigi smirks victoriously.

"Now then."  Louis picks his fork back up.  "Gigi.  You said you once did a show that involved a live elephant?"

~~~

H

Harry's cleared out his entire penthouse.  All that's left is ripped up AstroTurf still clinging for life to the floorboards and the stale scent of left behind oats.  He hates it.  He hates everything.

His suit jacket gets tossed to the side, his tie undone, and he unbuttons his shirt and takes off his belt, piling everything onto the couch before heading to his room.

His suitcase lands onto his tarped bed with a crinkly _thud_ and it squishes the stack of empty NYT crossword puzzles as he rips the tags off of the new luggage.  He piles socks and underwear into one of the corners along with his favorite Chelseas and stares at his shirts.

Does he really want to bring the ones with designs, or should he play it safe with the professional solid colors?

He taps his foot, staring at his options.  In the end, he decides on doing half and half since he's not quite ready to make a decision yet.  Though he _loathes_ ties, he packs some of the more versatile ones next to the handheld steam cleaner Niall bought for him today.

That leaves the final decision of what suit he's going to bring.

He shuts his closet, deciding to make the decision tomorrow.

In the kitchen, he gathers up a couple iced teas for good measure because he doesn't know if France will have them, and packs those in his bag too.

And then his doorbell rings.

His phone shows that he didn't miss any calls or messages, so he pockets it and heads to the front.  The peephole shows Louis Tomlinson standing outside his door.

His teeth instantly clench and he rests his forehead against the door and squeezes his legs together.  "What do you want?"

"For you to let me in please."  Louis requests.

"No thank you."  Harry says against the thick wood, wishing he could be crueler to Louis.  His voice alone makes Harry's skin prick with sweat.

"I will wait out here all night.  Time is not of the essence for me."  Louis says breezily.

"I'll call the cops."  Harry threatens.

"You do that."  Louis allows easily.

"What do you want?"  Harry repeats.

"To talk to you."  Louis says.

"Leave a message with my P.A."  Harry says to him like he says to dozens of people each day.

"Afraid the subject matter is sensitive."  Louis says.

"I'm not interested."  Harry says spitefully.

"I will gladly talk to you through this door about everything we've done."  Louis gives the door a tap for good measure.  "I'm not the one who is embarrassed to talk about-"

Harry has the door open and Louis yanked in before he can finish his sentence.  He lets go of Louis' suit jacket like his hands are on fire and instantly retreats to his kitchen where he can stare out the window and not at Louis.

The sound of Louis adjusting his clothing comes from behind Harry.  "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"What do you want?"  Harry asks for the third time.

Louis sighs with a longsuffering air.  "Harry, I made a mistake-"

He snorts.  Not the first time he's heard that from Louis.

"I miss you Haz.  I need you.  I- I made the biggest mistake of my life by pushing you out of it.  I'm so sorry."  Louis sounds like he's going to say more, but cuts himself off.

Harry's heart _lurches_ up his throat, but he stays facing the window, silent.  He refuses to let himself be played by Louis.  To never let Louis make him want to do the things he did again.  To never let Louis hurt him as much as he did.

"Don't waste your breath."  He mutters.

"Baby I'm so sorry.  I've been the biggest idiot- we said we were learning together.  I'm still learning.  I'm standing here, now, telling you that I've learned that I made a huge fucking mistake.  Learned that I'm an idiot to let you out of my life."  Louis says confidently.

Harry shakes his head to himself.

"Baby _please_.  Give me another chance to show you I can be good enough for you."  Louis pleads.  "I know you said you think you love me, but I know I love you."

 _That_ gets Harry's attention.  He doesn't turn around, but grips the counter tighter and raises his voice at the New York skyline.  "Bullshit!  If you loved me you- you wouldn't have done those things to me.  Made me do-"

He can't even bring himself to recall the incident and presses his legs closer together.

"I know baby."  Louis says sounding emotionally strained.  "And I swear we won't ever do those things again.  Everything I've done to you- it won't ever happen again.  Not if you don't want to."

Harry gives a sick smirk to his window.  "If you wanna come into my house and lie to me, _fine_.  But don't take me for an idiot."

Louis nearly scoffs.  "Harry, I'm-"

Harry doesn't let him finish.  "You expect me to believe this?  That you're willing to give up your lifestyle for me?  I think I'd believe you more if you said you sold your company and was moving to Texas."

"I would Haz!  I would for you."  Louis' gains an edgy scratch to it.  "I love you and that's worth everything to me."

Harry bites his lip, heart and brain telling him two completely different things.  Hormones and gut telling him two completely different things.  Desire and instinct telling him two different things.

"What do I offer to you that you can't get from somewhere else?"  Harry tries to stay pragmatic.

Louis pauses for a moment.  "You... you're different Harry.  You're strong and independent and _so_ smart-"

Harry laughs, his suspicions confirmed.  "Stop talking out of your ass please."

"I'm _not_!"  Louis' voice pitches higher like it gets when he's frustrated.  "Haz, you- you think I've ever let anyone help me fall asleep before?  You think I've ever told someone about my binge eating and weight insecurities before?  Do you think I'd risk the business repercussions of us being together?  Do you think I'd be willing to stay in the closet for just anyone?"

Harry tugs at his curls because God, there's _no way_ Louis is making all this up.  Not anymore.  This is too real.   

"I'll do anything Harry- anything to prove to you what you mean to me."  Louis says, emphatically.

And no.  No.  This is not right.  Harry doesn't like Louis talking to him like this.  Doesn't like when Louis... puts him in control of the situation.  As his discomfort grows, he shuffles his feet on the floor, trying to figure out what to say.  Trying to figure out what to do.

He never realized up until this point that his life had been simple.  That he never had to make too many decisions.  Not personally.

At work.  Well it simply comes down to numbers and popular vote and that makes everything easy enough.

This is a choice he has to make though.  Jesus, he wishes Louis could make it for him-

Wait.

But no.  He _can't_.  It's wrong.  Louis made him do things.  Louis made him angry.  _Louis_ humiliated him. 

"Please, just look at me love."  Louis says, carefully.

"I don't know what to do."  Harry pulls harder at his curls.

"Move forward with me- please."  Louis tentatively places a hand on Harry's low back and Harry nearly jumps at the contact.  "Let's leave our past in the past and just... just be together."

"What about the contract?"  Harry asks, remembering that Louis explicitly said he didn't know how to function without one and panicking at how very open ended Louis' last statement just sounded.

"Fuck the contract."  Louis slowly slides his hands up and down Harry's sides.  "You're more important to me than any contract will ever be."

"What if-" Harry swallows.  "What if I want the contract?"

"Then... we can have the contract..." Louis says very carefully.  "We can do whatever you want baby."

Harry doesn't know what the fuck he wants.  Well, he knows he wants what he wanted originally with Louis.  But even then... he really wasn't sure what that even was.  He wants that again.  But he doesn't... because last time he wanted it, he-

Harry holds a hand to his bladder.  The end of the day is when it gets hardest to hold it in.

"Baby are you okay?"  Louis pets Harry's arm.

"Don't."  Harry warns, not wanting to even come _close_ to what happened last time.  "You should leave."

"Please don't make me leave."  Louis puts a hint of begging into his tone again and nuzzles at where Harry's open shirt gapes away from the place his neck meets his shoulder.  "Please let me stay here with you.  Let me... make you happy."

His skin nonconsensually breaks into goosebumps at the touch from Louis that he's been missing.  That he's been craving.  He loves and hates it.  He loves everything about the way Louis makes him feel.  But he hates something about it too.  What the fuck is it that makes him hate this so much?

"Tell me what I can do for you baby.  I love you so much-" Louis says, softly inching his hand from Harry's low back, closer to his butt.

"Stop-" Harry's breath hitches and Louis stops instantly.  "Stop making me feel so-"

He can't find the fucking word for it.  He feels like- he feels like Louis is treating him like Liam or something.  Just too fucking... _nice_.  Too... _respectfully_.

Jesus Christ.

"Please just-" Harry's face burns crimson and he's so glad Louis can't see him, "stop acting like-"

"Like what love?"  Louis urges.

"Like Liam!"  Harry blurts out accidentally.

"Excuse me?"  Louis' tone gets sharper and already Harry feels the shivers rattle through every bone because _yes_ ; _that_ is what he needs.

"Yeah."  Harry clenches his eyes shut, praying that Louis will be able to read his mind.

"Liam, the pushover milquetoast who is your jogging chum?"  Louis sounds deeply offended.

"Yeah, him."  Harry emphasizes so Louis can decipher exactly what he's trying to say.

"You feel like I'm treating you how _Liam_ would?"  Louis' voice takes on an edge of mania.  "You really _think_ I'm comparable to _Liam_ Spineless _Payne_?"

Oh God, Harry _really_ fucking hopes this means Louis is catching on.  He doesn't- _does not_ \- want to address him as sir right now though.  Maybe- maybe if he rubs it in a little more, Louis will get pissed out of principle anyway and then the motive will have been achieved as well.

"Sounds like that's _exactly_ what I'm saying."  Harry tries very carefully to not let his tone be too playful nor too condescending.

Louis is silent for a moment- hands staying still where they're still in contact with Harry.  Harry's so glad his shirt is unbuttoned because it's already feeling significantly hotter and this is already stroking the chemicals in his body right where he needs it.  He can't even remember why he almost turned Louis away in the first place.

Then Louis' fingers grip into Harry's skin.  "Are you _trying_ to be a brat with me?"

Harry audibly lets out a shaky breath as he bites the bullet and nods his head.

Not even half a second later, Louis is forcing him around and pinning him up against the counter.  Harry closes his eyes as Louis yells in his face.  "How fucking _dare_ you Harry!  Who the _hell_ do you think you are to compare me to some low life scum like your secretary?  Do you know how much power I have?  Do you know what I'm capable of?  Do you know how god damned scared you should be of me?  And instead I have you mouthing off to me like a fucking child!"

Harry's chest heaves in and out as he breathes in Louis' words like oxygen in space.  "Sorry-"

"And now you think you can just _apologize_ to me?  Say 'sorry' and it will make everything better?  I thought we already discussed how _pathetic_ of an excuse 'sorry' is.  Don't think you can weasel your way out of this with something as under reaching as a lame _apology_."  Louis sneers.

Green, green, green, green, green is the only conscious thought Harry has.

"Look at me Harry."  Louis commands.

Harry stiffens up.

"Look.  At.  Me."  He repeats.

Harry shakes his head.

"Do you want me to force you?"  Louis says, half dominant, half genuine.

He doesn't know.  He just knows he _can't_.

So Louis does them both a favor and forces Harry in front of him and his hands behind his back like some kind of cop.  "Bedroom.  Now."

Harry opens his eyes and walks forward- restrained enough by Louis to have to be aware of his pace, but free enough to lead the way.  When they round the corner into his bedroom though, Harry catches sight of his suitcase on top of the blue tarp that's sprawled across his bed.  By happenstance, he also trips over some of the half-lifted AstroTurf on the floor and finds himself face first next to it.

Louis releases him so that he doesn't fall to the floor with Harry.  "Move your shit and get on the bed."

Harry clenches his eyes shut and curls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his temporarily-forgotten full bladder.  "Yellow."

Louis is on his knees next to him in a second.  "What's wrong baby?"

"I can't..."  He can't do anything without fear of peeing. 

"What can't you do?"  Louis reassures.

"Can't do anything."  Harry says, ambiguously and full of shame.

"Why not baby?"  Louis asks softly, then rushes out his next question.  "Are you hurt?

Harry shakes his head.

"Can I hold you?"  He asks.

"No."  Harry just needs to go to bed and it will all be over by morning time.

"Harry talk to me.  Why are you a yellow?"  Louis says, firmly.

"I have to... go to the bathroom."  Harry wishes his AstroTurf could swallow him whole.

"Then go?  And we can talk about it after okay?  Let me help you off the floor."  Louis reaches out to help Harry.

"No!"  Harry shoulders away from him.  "That's why I'm yellow."

Louis starts to say something, then doesn't.  "You- do you have a UTI?"

"No."  Harry says, exasperated.  "Just... don't want to."

"What?"  Louis asks, completely confused.  "We don't have to do anything Haz."

Harry just shakes his head to himself and bites his lip to keep from thinking about the last time he was with Louis and what happened.  Tries to keep from getting emotional over it.  Tries to dig up any dignity he has left.

"You don't want to go to the bathroom."  Louis states.

"Correct."  Harry breathes out.

"In front of me?  Do you want me to leave?"  Louis asks, catching on.

Harry is sure his face looks pained.  "At all."

"What?  It- when-?"  Louis tries to ask too many questions at once.

"I don't.  At all."  Harry whispers.

"Since the... incident."  Louis paraphrases.

Harry nods.

"God, _Haz_."  Louis sounds as pained as Harry feels right now.  "Why not?"

Harry holds himself tighter.  "Was embarrassing and... traumatizing."  He says for lack of a better word.

"Baby, no- you shouldn't- it's not- _Jesus_."  Louis nearly gasps out.  "Baby, I'm _so_ sorry.  You're perfect, you know that right?  You need to take care of your body though- do what it tells you because what you're doing right now is really unhealthy."

He _knows_ it's unhealthy.  He's known it the whole time.  But something about hearing his Dom say it to him.  It helps.  It changes things.

"I know."  He says softly. 

"I can... help you, you know?  I can be there with you.  Hold your hand or rub your back or... I don't know."  Louis trails off how he does when he delves into trying to find a solution for something.

And it makes Harry feel a way.  Hearing Louis offer that.  Moral support.  Emotional support.  Even though he's the entire reason for the problem in the first place, there's something... intimate and consolidating about the thought that Louis is the one to fix it all too.  He trusts Louis with that.

He nods.

"Can I help you up then?"  Louis asks.

He nods again and holds a hand out for Louis to help him up.

Walking into his bathroom is like walking the Green Mile, but Louis is still holding his hand, so it makes everything bearable.  Harry trembles as he unzips his fly- his bladder gnawing at every nerve and fighting to break free.

Louis places his hands on either side of Harry's waist and kisses along his spine.  "Is this okay?"

Harry nods, taking his dick into his unsteady hands.

"I'm right here for you.  It's okay Haz."  Louis says, calmly.

And Harry starts to feel a swirl of nausea and pleasure as the familiar concoction for whatever _this_ is, spikes up again.  The feeling that makes him want to beg for Louis to knead into his stomach.  The feeling that makes him willing to do _anything_ to please Louis.  And God fucking help him, but he _loved_ drinking Louis' urine.  He loved peeing all over him.  He loved sucking on his own underwear.

"Help me please."  Harry says, brokenly.

"I've got you love."  Louis reaches a hand around to gently hold Harry's dick and aim it into the toilet.

He gasps as his bladder finally releases what it's been holding in like his tears release the emotion that had been repressed.  He covers his face with his hands and cries as the relief rushes through his body like it did that night on Louis' couch.

"You're okay.  I've got you.  I'm so proud of you."  Louis presses a small kiss against Harry's back.

When he's emptied everything he's been holding inside, Louis cleans him off and zips him up and Harry nearly collapses into his arms.  Louis carries him into the bedroom, kicking his suitcase off the bed and shoving the tarp to the side.

He rocks back and forth with Harry in his arms, whispering encouraging things to him until they both fall asleep.

~~~

**/Sneak peek for next update/**

"I don't know what you expect me to say. If you're going to play Harry, you're going to play Harry. Nothing I can say will change that." Niall shrugs. "I don't blame you. I would do the same thing in your position. You've been trying to get your dad out of prison- fuck- for at _least_ a decade."

"Harry loves me Niall. He told me he loved me today. I- I fucked him up. I'm going to continue to fuck him up. This is _so_ bad for him." Louis rubs at his temples.

"So tell him the truth." Niall suggests like an idiot.

~~~


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: Hey, it looks like AO3 has changed some stuff, so I'm not sure on how to get my header pictures on here anymore... sorry :(. Anyway, I've missed you guys! Enjoy some chapters :)

~~~

H

When Harry's alarm wakes him, he scrambles to jump out of bed, expecting to be in a puddle of urine.

Instead, he gets tangled in the bedsheets, pulling Louis on top of him on the floor.

They both land with an 'oomph' and Louis braces himself on top of Harry.  "What the fuck?  That was quite the wakeup call."

"Sorry."  Harry blushes and looks to the side.  "I just thought- well... that was my first time in two weeks sleeping without the tarp."

"You're not going to need it anymore, are you?"  Louis parts the wild curls out of Harry's face.

Harry shakes his head.  "Don't think so."

"You can call me any time you need help, okay baby?"  Louis kisses the tip of his nose.

"I think I'll be good."  Harry focuses on the small patch of carpet still in his bedroom.

"Are you... going on a trip soon?"  Louis asks cautiously. 

"Yeah.  Today."  Harry looks up at his nightstand to see his digital clock.  He has to leave in an hour.

"Oh?"  Louis cocks his head to the side.  "Where to?"

"France.  For several days."  Harry's stomach churns at the thought.

"That sounds like it will be a lot of fun."  Louis helps Harry back up onto the bed.  "I know you'll do amazing baby.  You're absolutely incredible at everything you do."

The words are like a small burden lifting from his shoulders because if Louis thinks highly of him, Harry doesn't want to do anything to make him question that.  He's even going to bring the crossword puzzles on the plane with him until he figures them the fuck out.  He has purpose again.

So Louis makes him breakfast while Harry packs his Brazilian suit in the garment bag and before Harry leaves his house, Louis pulls him into a tight hug.

Louis kisses his neck.  "I love you."

"I love you too."  Harry gets out hardly in a whisper.  He's never said that to anyone before.  Not out loud.  Not meaning it 100 percent.  Not romantically.

"I'll miss you so much baby."  Louis holds him and Harry just feels safe and warm and perfect and he never wants to leave this spot.

"Miss you too."  Harry's entire body feels like it may be going into shock.  He has too many emotions that are too strong and it can't be normal to feel this way about someone.

"Text me.  All the time.  Like when I was in Brazil okay?  And we can Skype every day if you want."  Louis slithers a hand through his hair and massages his scalp.

Harry nods as he melts into Louis.

"Don't be late now."  Louis presses a quick kiss to his lips.  "I love you."

"Bye."  Harry grabs his suitcase as he stares at the floor on his way out the door.

His heart feels like it might jump right out of his chest by the time he gets in the taxi.  His body thrums with adrenaline and desire and security and _control_.  Harry feels like he's on cloud fucking nine.

He hardly processes the mechanics of going through the airport.  He expects the anxiety to hit and overcome him, but it doesn't.  It's like there's a giant 10-foot shield of Louis that protects Harry from anything that could go wrong. 

Even though Harry doesn't know all the semantics of their relationship anymore.  If they have to resign a contract or revise the previous one.  If they have to formally ask each other to be exclusive again.  If it's insinuated.  Even though he doesn't know any of that, he sits at his seat on the plane, feeling more safe than he's ever felt in his life.

~~~

L

Louis is pacing in his office, staring at his Newton's Cradle clicking methodically in time to his breathing.

The clock ticks unevenly on his wall and the sun casts an inconvenient glare right down the center of his room.

Then the door bursts open.

"What's going on?!"  Niall locks the door behind him and nearly sprints up to Louis.  "Did you insult the President again?"

"No!"  Louis wants to brain himself on the sharp corner of his black desk.

"Then what's the emergency situation?"  Niall asks, still breathing heavily.

"Harry."  Louis wants to get destructive.  _So_ badly.  But getting destructive doesn't solve anything.

"Harry."  Niall repeats.

"I'm doing a terrible thing."  Louis preempts.

"Is that supposed to surprise me?"  Niall teases.

"This is serious!"  Louis reprimands.

"Okay, okay."  Niall holds his hands up.  "I'm listening."

Louis takes a counted breath then looks out his window.  "Desmond offered to talk to Judge Walden if I can convince Harry to stay in New York."

Niall's mouth slowly opens.  "Oh."  Then he hugs Louis.

"That's all you have for me?"  Louis is upset at the lack of reaction and pushes Niall off of him.  "Just an ' _oh_.'"

"I don't know what you expect me to say.  If you're going to play Harry, you're going to play Harry.  Nothing I can say will change that."  Niall shrugs.  "I don't blame you.  I would do the same thing in your position.  You've been trying to get your dad out of prison- fuck- for at _least_ a decade."

"Harry loves me Niall.  He told me he loved me today.  I- I fucked him up.  I'm going to continue to fuck him up.  This is _so_ bad for him."  Louis rubs at his temples.

"So tell him the truth."  Niall suggests like an idiot.

"Are you fucking stupid?"  Louis waves his hand in the air.  "Then he'll run back to Kentucky even faster and I won't ever see my dad again."

"Then as soon as your dad is released, just break up with him again.  It's only what- four months away?  Just stay as detached as possible, but string him along as much as necessary until then."  Niall sits down on the backless chair.

Louis hops up to sit on his desk.  "I'm giving up everything for this Niall.  I'm giving away months of my life as a half-assed CEO so I can do this right.  Compromising what I need sexually and emotionally for this.  But I- I finally have the chance to free my dad."

"I know."  Niall fixes his glasses.  "I'm so happy for you Lou." 

"Right."  Louis laughs in spite of himself.  "Funny, my best friend is happier about this than me."

"Hey, cut it out."  Niall snaps.  "You are Louis Tomlinson.  You do whatever the fuck it takes to get what you want.  Sacrifices have to be made.  Don't go soft on me now.  Jesus."

Louis shakes his head to himself.  "You're right.  Sacrifice."

"Exactly.  Cut your losses and chin up."  Niall repeats what they used to often say to each other when they were younger and trying to make it through tough times.

Louis puts a ghost of a smile on his face.  "What's going to happen when he's out?"

"Well I suppose you could get him a job here?  Or pay any company to let him work there.  Or put him into retirement.  Let him travel the world while he's still got youth on his side."  Niall says, getting lost in thought.

Louis nods.  It's been so many years of dreaming, wishing, wanting to give his dad a better life than he ended up having.  He finally has the chance to do that.

"Since Harry's out of the office, I'm extra swamped today, so I need to head in a second.  You gonna be alright?"  Niall stands up and brushes off his suit.

"Yes, I will be fine."  Louis stands as well and straightens out his cuff links.  "Thank you."

"Anytime."  Niall gives him another unexpected hug, then reactivates the Newton's Cradle before leaving.

Louis paces the length of his office a few times before pulling up Twitter.  He knows Harry is still on the plane, but tweets him anyway.

**@RootsHarry Ur not in Kansas anymore! Just remember the yellow brick road leads 2 Champ de Mars & cowboy boots work as sparkly red heels ;)**

He smiles, not able to hold back the thought of Harry getting lost in Paris.  _Louis_ got lost in Paris.  He knows Harry will get lost there.  Hopefully Harry doesn't end up phoneless, moneyless, and stranded in some dingy part of town like Louis did after that time he got mugged there.

Yeah, he's not too fond of the place.  His idea of the Eiffel Tower is the one in Vegas where he's surrounded by wealth and entrepreneurs.  Not dirty streets and snobby people.  But to each their own.  He wonders what Harry will think of it.

He taps his fingers on the side of his phone for another long minute before dialing the other number on his favorites list.

It rings.  And rings.  And rings.

Then.

A girl's voice answers.  "Louis?"

"Fiz..."  Louis bites at his fingernail.  "I think I have a way to get dad out of jail."

~~~

H

Harry is buzzing when the plane lands.  He didn't like, _realize_ he'd be seeing the Eiffel Tower.  But it's there, and he saw it when they were descending.

And also the neighborhoods.  Like, Harry thought _New York_ was weird.  France is weird.

Then when they land, the flight attendants welcome them to France in both English and French.  Harry kind of panics a little because it basically sounds like Chinese.

He should have brought Dominique.

Disembarking the plane is probably the scariest part, because all the sudden it feels like everyone he's been on this plane with for the last seven hours spontaneously morphs into French persons as he hears the language thrown around left and right and people not respecting his personal space bubble.

Rude.

So he promptly decides to sit down and wait for everyone else to leave before even trying.

A flight attendant comes up to him.  "Excuse me sir, we do not have any connecting flights.  Can I help you find your next flight?"

"Oh, no ma'am.  I was just waiting for everyone else to leave."  Harry stands up and pulls his carry on out from the overhead bin as the plane continues buzzing loudly.

"Of course monsieur.  Enjoy your stay."  She nods kindly to him.

"Um, thank you."  Harry leaves as quickly as possible.

The first thing he looks for is a bathroom.  And God bless the fact that the signs are both in French and English.  And the little symbols that universally represent the bathroom.  He takes a picture of the sign though, because it is after all, half in French and that's kind of cool and scary at the same time.

He scurries there and pauses next to a urinal to unlock his phone.  And different things pop up on his network bar and things telling him to sign in and Harry doesn't really know what to do with any of that, so he ignores it.

He messages Louis through Skype, dismissing the dozen things that tell him to adjust his settings.

**Everything is in French and my phone is freaking out! There are so many French people!**

Now that he's said it to _someone_ , he feels better.  Feels like he can handle the country.  He can do this.  Louis said he can do it.

So he takes a breath as another guy enters the bathroom too and stands at the urinal next to him.  And really, he stares at the tiled floor because he didn't realize he was accustomed to people always standing at least a urinal away; but here he is, right next to a French guy, pissing.

He tries to think about how he's going to find the baggage claim and decides to ask the guy next to him because, hey, they both just got off the plane and he's probably headed there too.

"Excuse me, do you-"

But that's about as far as he gets before the man abruptly turns to him and accidentally pisses on Harry's foot.

"Merde!  Je suis desole!"  The man quickly grabs toilet paper and gets down at Harry's feet to clean the urine off his Chelseas.

Harry yelps and fish mouths at the current situation because _what the fuck_ is happening?

"Sorry!  Fuck, I'm so sorry monsieur!"  The man switches to English.

"It's fine, it's fine."  Harry just wants him to get off the floor then run away and pretend this never happened.

"Oh my God, how embarrassing, I'm so sorry sir- I can pay for these to be cleaned-" The man rambles and waves his hands around in the air.

"No, no, it's fine.  It's good."  Harry takes a step away and busies himself with washing his hands.

"Please, I'm so sorry."  The man says.

"Forget about it."  Harry avoids eye contact with him and sticks his hands in the air dryer.

The man pulls out his wallet and Harry waves his hands in front of him as they get into a back and forth.

"Please sir-"

"No, it's fine-"

"I'm so sorry-"

"Just forget about it-"

"I can-"

"Okay!"  Harry raises his voice because he's not about to continue arguing about a guy pissing on his shoes.  "How about you show me to the baggage claim and buy me a tea?"

"You like tea?"  The man sounds flabbergasted.

"Uh... yeah?"  Harry wipes the remaining moisture off his hands.

"But you're American?"  The man still looks shocked.

"Um, anywho, I really need to get to my hotel, so I should be going."  Harry turns and leaves the bathroom and texts Louis.

**A French guy just pissed on my shoes at the urinal....**

The man catches up to him.  "Hey American!  I'll show you the baggage pick up and buy you tea.  My name is Clement.  C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer!  What is your name?"

"Harry.  Harry Styles."  Harry doesn't offer his hand to shake because Clement didn't wash his hands. 

And hey, Harry's been there.  He lived on a farm.  But like, Clement also pissed on him, so he's not too keen to get super friendly with him.

"So good to meet you.  Here- this place has good tea Harry."  Clement grasps his elbow into a tea shop.  "What do you like?  Green?  English Breakfast?  Earl Grey?"

"Any iced tea is fine."  Harry shrugs.

Clement turns to look him up and down.  "Aaaaaahhhhhhhh.  _Iced_ tea.  You _are_ American.  You're an American cowboy."

Harry looks himself up and down.  He's wearing black Chelseas that are appropriate for Wall Street- minus the drying stranger's urine- he's wearing his less formal skinny black slacks and a Yves Saint Laurent button up with a tiger jacket.  He looks about as far from a cowboy as he could imagine and wonders how in the living hell the man knows so much about him. 

He's probably transparent.  Everybody can probably see right through him.  They all know he's a cowboy.  They all know he doesn't like business.  They all know he's gay.  They all know he's with Louis.

So he texts Louis.

**How does everyone know I'm from America?? How do they know I'm a cowboy???? I don't even look like one!!!**

Clement has since ignored him and purchased an iced tea for him.  Harry takes it gratefully then follows Clement out passed security.

But then he sees a small French man holding a sign that says HARRY STYLES and Harry looks around because fucking _everybody_ in France knows everything about him and he wants to fly back to America and hide in his acres of forest in Kentucky.

"Hang on one sec."  Harry says to Clement.

"Okay, okay."  He waves his hands dismissively.

Harry walks up to the guy holding the sign.  "Can I help you with something?" 

"I am your chauffer, Leandro, Monsieur Styles.  Your baggage has already been carried to the car.  Please follow me."  Leandro turns to start leading Harry out of the airport.

Harry turns around quickly to wave goodbye to Clement.  "Never mind, they got my stuff.  Thank you for the tea!"

"Goodbye American cowboy!"  Clement waves to him.

Harry smiles, and as he walks onto the sidewalk, he feels like he's possibly just been punched and passed out because he's blind and disoriented at the same time. 

He blinks a dozen times before shading his eyes because he realizes there are a bunch of photographers yelling and surrounding the path to his car.  Leandro calmly holds the door open for him, and Harry bolts into the back seat, praising when the door gets shut and it's silent.

He brings his hands up to his face to breathe for a couple minutes as Leandro takes him wherever the hell he's going.

Then he texts Louis.

**France is so fucking weird.**

~~~

 


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: Hello from Manhattan! I'm here for official story research ;) Hello to any fellow New Yorkers!                  

-Dannie

Twitter: LemonSuccubus or dannieybarra  
Insta: LemonSuccubus or dannieybarra  
Snapchat: mypenguin143

~~~

When he gets to the hotel, he manages to get checked in and his stuff put away. 

He calls Niall to ask what the hell is up with his phone.  Niall seems to treat Harry with pity more than anything and walks him through how to adjust his settings while international.

After that hell is over, he showers and then takes a nap.

When he wakes up, it's 21:46 on his digital clock and Harry panics because _of course_ he's transcended into the fifth dimension.  If anywhere were to do that to him, it would be France.

His phone says it's 9:46pm though, so he trusts that, along with the fact that it's dark outside.  Then he unplugs the digital clock and puts it under his bed.

He has one message from Louis.

**Baby you're fucking adorable xx Everything going alright so far?**

Harry wonders what makes him adorable, but responds back nonetheless.

**Things are going good. I'm hungry though and I don't really want room service.**

He's happy to see that Louis sees his message immediately and responds only moments later.

**Grab something from off the street then get a pic in front of Harry's New York Bar ;))**

Harry squints at his phone, then decides to Google it because as much as he would believe Louis if he said that men hadn't landed on the moon, he kind of doesn't believe there's a place called Harry's New York Bar.

And he'll be damned.  It's a real place.

Down at the hotel lobby, they tell him he is welcome to the 24/7 room service food or that it is the perfect time to go out to dinner.  Which, it's like, four and a half hours too late for dinner, but whatever. 

So he has a taxi take him there.  About a block early he sees a tasty looking food stand and pays his cab fare.  When the taxi leaves, he realizes it's just him and the streets of Paris.  Foreign French cars and French shrubs and French signs and French people speaking French.

He decides he'll get French fries here. 

So at the booth, the lady gives him a warm smile, but it falters when Harry asks for French fries.

"Pardon monsieur?"  She cocks her head to the side.

"Fries?  Y'know... potatoes dipped in... stuff?"  He tries.

"Desolee monsieur, je ne comprendes pas."  She shakes her head sadly.

"Food?"  Harry asks.  He'll take anything.  The menu is all in French though.

"Need some help sir?"  A voice comes from behind him. 

Harry wants to shout hallelujah from the top of the Eiffel Tower.  Thank _God_ , someone who speaks English.  "Yeah, I'm just- I was just trying to get some French fries." 

He turns to face the young man who speaks flawlessly but still has a hint of a French influence.  He's got soft wavy coffee hair that accents his chocolate eyes.  With a burgundy scarf and crème cardigan paired with charcoal pants, he looks the very epitome of a fashionable European.  Standing next to Harry, he's about the same size as Louis, but without the dominating personality and aggressive posture, the man seems to be slightly shorter.

"They have some at the American diner around the block."  He gives Harry a friendly smile.  "I can walk you there if you like."

"Oh, no I was just trying to find something here.  But I can't read the menu..." Harry purses his lips at the blackboard with French scripted across it.

"Let me help you then."  He puts a hand on Harry's lower back to urge him closer to the stand so he can see over the counter.  "So, this is a crepe stand.  Crepes are like thin pancakes.  Very good." 

He gives Harry a quick wink and Harry doesn't know what to do about that other than let his natural reaction of an embarrassed smile to take over. 

"They have fruit crepes or dessert crepes.  Are you feeling healthy or sweet?"  He asks.

"Healthy."  Harry says, mostly because he can't bring himself to call himself any version of sweet out loud.

"Strawberries, blueberries, or bananas?"  He points to each displayed fruit.

And already, Harry is done with making French decisions.  "What do you suggest?"

He looks Harry up and down, nods, then rattles off a long string of French to the woman behind the counter.

Harry pulls out his wallet to pay for it, but the man holds his hand out to stop him.  "No, no.  On me.  Welcome to France.  My name is Adrien by the way." 

Harry bites his lip and looks to the ground.  "Thank you Adrien.  I'm Harry."

"It's a pleasure."  Adrien gives Harry a small clap to the bicep.  "Would you like company?" 

"Sure."  Harry likes Adrien.  He's friendly.  And he speaks English.  And hasn't peed on Harry's shoes.

Adrien looks pleased and gives Harry his ordered crepe, and apparently, had ordered one for himself too.  "Would you like to walk around the neighborhoods?  Or sit while we eat?"

Harry shrugs.  "Either way.  I just need to get a picture in front of a bar called Harry's New York Bar."

"Oh yes, _Harry_!"  Adrien smiles like it's the cleverest thing he's heard all day.  "And are you from New York too?"

Harry chuckles at his enthusiasm.  "Yeah.  I am."

"How lovely."  Adrien nudges him as they start to walk in the opposite direction.  "I've been to New York many times myself."

"Really?  Are you a model or something?"  Harry asks, then immediately backpedals at the implications of what he just said.  "Sorry!  Um, I just mean like I know France is like a fashion capital and New York is too- and your scarf- so I just didn't know- I _don't_ know- sorry-"

Adrien saves him from himself with a loud laugh.  "I'm flattered Harry.  But I go to New York to dabble in business.  My real passion is art though."

Harry takes the first bite of his crepe and it's... tasty... but... "It's really light.  Like, I feel like I'm not even chewing on anything."

"It's a delicate taste to the palate.  It's savory."  Adrien waves his hand in the air like he's trying to draw the sensation.

"What kind of art do you do?"  Harry asks, fascinated by Adrien's personality.

"I draw naked people like in Titanic."  He responds.

Harry's neck snaps to look at him so quickly that he almost drops his crepe plate.

Adrien's face splits into a grin.  "You're not like most Americans, are you?"

Harry has _no_ idea what is happening with this conversation.  "Um, I don't know?"

"Most Americans are so self-absorbed.  Very crass and sarcastic."  Adrien takes a bite of his crepe.  "But not you.  You believed me."

Oh.  Interesting.  Harry didn't realize French people had preconceived notions of Americans.

"Yeah I guess so."  Harry says, not really sure which part he's agreeing to.

"I paint on canvas.  I love to paint landscapes."  He says, softer this time.  More genuine.  "My mom always said I started painting straight out of the womb.  It's been 24 years now."

"That's really cool."  Harry's shoulders relax.

"What is your passion?"  Adrien asks.

"Cow farming."  Harry says instantly.  "I lived on a farm for 25 years.  I hope I do nothing but farm for the rest of my life."

"There's your spark."  Adrien smiles.  "You've looked so scared since I met you.  But you are passionate about farming.  It's your strength- aside from your obvious physical strength."  He gives a playful and suggestive pat to Harry's biceps.

Harry chuckles because he thinks Adrien is a really playful character.  He feels oddly at ease with the physical contact.  Maybe it's because he's in France and everyone is more physical here, or maybe it's because Harry feels more comfortable with himself, but he likes it.

"You don't say very much."  Adrien says.

Harry's never thought about that.  Never really been told that either.  "I guess I just don't have much to say."

"I doubt that."  Adrien says, sincerely.

They walk around the block in silence while they finish their crepes and Harry takes in how different the architecture is here.  How different it smells.  How windy it is.

"You're shivering.  Where is your scarf American boy?"  Adrien teases.

Harry furrows his eyebrows.  "I don't have a scarf."

"You don't have a scarf?  Merde, what a crime!"  He holds his arms over his heart.  "Let's get you a scarf."  He grasps Harry's elbow and they take a sharp right.

"Ain't all- _fuck_ -" Harry is never going to get down English no matter how hard he tries.  " _Aren't_ all the shops closed this late?"

Adrien gives him an odd quirk of the eyebrow, but leads him into a shop nonetheless.  "Well this one isn't.  Here, what color do you want?"

Harry's faced with a wall of scarves.  How the fuck is he supposed to choose a scarf?  What is fashionable?  What is tacky?  What material? 

"Help me choose?"  Harry decides recruiting the fashionable European is the smarter idea than trying to tackle this by himself.  Kind of like how they have their international teams take care of international business.  Always trust the natives.

Adrien takes it very seriously though.  He strokes his smooth skin with his fingers while he taps his foot on the wood floor and assesses the wall carefully.

He pulls down several different scarves, holding them up next to Harry's face, making different faces of his own with his reactions to each one.  The orange one gets tossed behind him with a disapproving grunt, the yellow one gets thrown at the shopkeeper with a shriek, and he uses the brown one to pretend it's vomit and throws it to the floor.  All of his antics have Harry laughing hysterically and grabbing his abs by the end of it. 

"Are you even taking this seriously?"  Harry wipes a tear from the corner of his eye from laughing so hard.

"Psh, you think I would even consider that horrid yellow on your skin?"  He nods towards the shopkeeper who is rolling her eyes and hanging it back on the rack.  "No, I knew this was the one from the second we walked into the store."

He turns around to pluck out an earthy green scarf made of a thicker material.  He motions for Harry to duck down so he can wrap the scarf around his neck.  Harry smiles as he bows a little and Adrien coils the soft material around him and snaps off the tag.

"Matches your eyes."  He gives one of Harry's curls a small tug.  "And the greener pastures you wish you lived in."

Harry's shocked by Adrien's words- not having expected something both sentimental and perceptive from him.  He looks to the floor and wonders when he started feeling bad about missing Kentucky.

"Here, let's get you this, then take you to your bar."  Adrien walks to the counter with the tag to pay for it. 

Then he escorts Harry out.  Back in the night, Harry is surprised to find that the scarf does help him stay warmer.  He tucks his hands in his pockets and walks lazily next to Adrien. 

"How do you know so much about me?  I feel like everyone here can see through me."  Harry decides to voice his constant question since he's arrived.

"I only know what you show me."  Adrien looks up to Harry.  "And accent aside, the way you speak reveals a lot about a person.  The things you choose to say and how you say them."

Harry nods, not really sure what to say back to that. 

They walk in a comfortable silence until they reach the bar again. 

"One American bar for Harry from New York."  Adrien politely bows and makes a show of holding his hand in presentation of the door.

Harry feels like he's smiled too much tonight already, but he does again because he can't help himself.  "Would you actually mind taking a picture of me in front of it?"

"Sure."  Adrien holds a hand out for Harry's phone.  When Harry passes it to him, he raises an eyebrow.  "Ah, you're a Roots boy?"

"What?"  Harry's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets because who the _fuck_ is Adrien and how does he know everything about Harry?

"Your phone."  He wiggles it at Harry.  "I prefer the Metal Core phones myself.  I've been thinking of switching over lately though." 

Oh.  Right.  Normal people having a normal conversation about phone preferences.  No big deal.

"I like Metal Core phones better too honestly."  Harry grins secretly because he can be honest with strangers who don't know who he is.  "They look way better."  And they remind him of Louis.  But he doesn't say that part.

"That they do."  Adrien agrees.  "Now then, two steps back, and three to the left."

Harry positions himself under the sign and smiles as Adrien snaps the picture.

"There you go.  Should be light enough with the street lamps."  He hands Harry his phone back.  "Are you sending it to someone special back home?"

"Kind of, yeah."  Harry still has no idea what to even call himself and Louis, but Louis is definitely someone special.

Adrien grins.  "Well then, if your night ends here, I will leave you to your drinking.  It was so good to meet you Harry." 

"Oh no- I'm not drinking.  I actually was probably going to catch a taxi back to my hotel and probably order some room service.  The crepe was good, but I'm still a little hungry."  Harry smiles guiltily.

"If you, perhaps, would like some more authentic French food and company, I have everything at my house to make a delicious crab linguine."  Adrien offers generously.

Harry opens his mouth to instantly oppose, but really, he can't find one reason why he shouldn't. 

So he smiles, becausehe likes making friends.  He likes France.  "Sure.  That would be great."

~~~


	43. Chapter 43

A/N: This week I got to meet one of my best friends I've met on Wattpad :') Thank you guys for being awesome and I've loved all the friendships that have come from Wattpad/1D/Larry. What an awesome community we have here <3

Also, I will be writing a Harry/Louis business trip and instead of just choosing where they go, I thought it would be fun for you guys to throw out some suggestions :) What country are you guys from and why would it be a good one for them to go to?

Loves and hugs! xxx

Dannie Ybarra

~~~

L

Louis sits on the mattress without a sheet cover, rickety bedframe squeaking in protest.

"You really mean what you said over the phone? Dad's getting out of prison?" Felicite slams her stained bedroom door closed behind them.

"I didn't say it's a for sure thing. I just said I _think_ I have a way to get him out." Louis reemphasizes.

"Well _how_? What can I do to help?" Felicite plops down onto the bed next to him.

"Nothing, calm down sis. It's a bit of a long story." Louis gives her a gentle shove to the shoulder and she returns it to him.

"Don't tell me to calm down! This is what we've been waiting our whole lives for! How are you not screaming from the rooftops?!" Felicite throws her hands up in the air.

"Because that would not be in anyone's best interest." Louis runs his hand through his hair. "Fiz, you have to keep this on the down low. I swear- you can't even tell Cayden."

"Cayden would _never_ rat on you, you _know_ that." Felicite defends.

"Just because he's your boyfriend, doesn't mean I trust him." Louis says.

He's had P.I.'s on Cayden too. So far everything checks out. But Louis will always be hesitant to trust 17-year-old boys- _especially_ when they're with the likes of his 14-year-old sister.

"We've been together a year now. I think it's about time you start believing he takes just as good of care as me as you did." Felicite says.

Louis purses his lips mockingly at the run down state of the small shack Felicite and Cayden illegally live in. "Mmhmm."

"Just because I don't live in a god damned penthouse doesn't mean I'm destitute." Felicite bites out.

"God, I never _said_ you were destitute. I would just prefer I didn't have to worry over whether or not my sister lives in heated facilities during the winter time." Louis pets her hair.

"Our landlord exchanges with Cayden. He takes care of our rent and utilities and gets product in return." Felicite says like it's nothing abnormal.

Louis sighs. He hates what Felicite has chosen to do with her life. But it's her life and Louis respects her choices. When she moved out a year ago, Louis only let her with the compromise that when the time came, she would go to college and let Louis pay for it.

That, after all, was better than her running away and never speaking to him again. Besides, he had frequented the streets at 12, perfectly capable of handling himself. He knows Felicite is able to do the same; particularly after everything Louis has taught her.

"So what's with flirting with this Harry Styles fellow over Twitter? You're fucking him aren't you? Is he under contract? Is it just to get inside Roots?" Felicite asks bluntly.

" _Felicite_!" Louis exclaims.

"What?" She asks with a large amount of attitude. "It's been over a year since the tabloids have had _anything_ juicy to say about your love life. _And_ \- he did an interview _in your house_! God only knows how that turned out for his ass."

"Oh my God." Louis mutters.

"Jesus, you don't need to act prude about it. I'm not an idiot and rumors don't come from nowhere." She says.

"He's the son of the CEO of Roots- you know, Desmond Styles?" He asks.

"Fucking _duh_. Harry _Styles_. Desmond _Styles_. I figured that much out for myself nitwit." She rolls her eyes.

"Your sass puts mine to shame." Louis pokes her. "Anyway. Desmond is friends with Judge Walden. He said he'd speak to him as long as I keep Harry in New York till March 26th and he signs a long-term contract with the company."

"Wait, so he _didn't_ already know you were fucking his son and offered this deal to you?" Felicite's jaw drops.

"No- he knew. We had parted ways though. Then Desmond called and made me the offer. He thinks I'm able to- I don't know- emotionally monopolize Harry enough to get him to want to stay here and build a life with him." Louis explains.

"Well that's not hard." Felicite scoffs. "You've had every person you fuck offer their souls to you. Piece of cake. So dad will be out in March then?"

Louis sighs because, yeah, in theory it's a piece of cake. But it's going to cost Louis a lot. And it's going to cost Harry a lot. And he knows other people will suffer consequences along the way.

He lays back on the bed that probably will give him lice and stares at the popcorn ceiling that is stained with yellow. "Yeah. Dad will be out in March."

~~~

H

There's a thought that, at the beginning of the evening, had been plaguing his mind. The thought started and ended with the fact that at one point, Harry had agreed to ask Louis permission any time he wanted to spend time alone with someone out-of-work as an extra-curricular date; because this certainly feels like one of those times.

But.

He doesn't know where they're at. Plus, that rule also went along with Louis passing off what he eats and what he wears. Which Louis hasn't said anything about. So Harry thinks it's probably fine. Besides, they never agreed on a punishment for breaking said rules anyway, so Harry doesn't really have anything to compare his risk verses loss to.

It's fine.

And it becomes more fine the fuller his stomach becomes with tasty French seafood pasta. It becomes more fine the warmer Adrien's house becomes. The more comfortable he gets in the modest, but posh surroundings. The more wine he coaxes himself into drinking.

It's very fine.

"Adrien, are French people really physical? 'Cause they seem really physical. Like, a French guy pissed on me in the airport and then was up in my space tryn'a fix it." Harry says.

"Oui. Compared to American's, you will find that Europeans are more comfortable with each other. We don't need a mile of front yard, back yard, and side yards separating us from our neighbors." Adrien swirls the Riesling around in his glass.

"I grew up on a farm." Harry says, then realizes Adrien already knows this. "We had 52 acres of land."

"So much space when so little is used for living." Adrien takes a drink. "Though I suppose the space is needed on a farm."

"No, you're right." Harry pulls off a piece of baguette and dips it in his wine before popping it in his mouth. "23 acres of it was unusable forest land."

"Then I suppose you do Mother Earth a favor by preserving her land." Adrien holds his glass up, then takes another hearty swallow.

"Do you do this with every American you meet?" Harry can't help but ask.

Adrien laughs, cheeks blushing darker red because of the wine. "Not even close Harry. Though my hospitality is open to all, I do not typically stay up so late when I have to be up for work the next morning. But our conversations have been too good to let something like sleep come before it."

Harry checks his phone and oh, look at that, it's almost 1am. "Shit. I can- I can go if you want. You've been so kind and... hospitable. Thank you."

"That was not meant to kick you out- merde!" Adrien chuckles. "At least finish your glass of wine."

"You know." Harry picks up the glass by the stem and looks into the white wine. "I normally don't drink."

"Why is that?" Adrien leans forward on his hands.

"I-" Harry swirls the liquid around and his brain feels like it's doing a lot of the same thing. "My friend growing up... his dad was an alcoholic. I was always scared I would turn into him. But." He takes a drink. "But I've learned since then, that I have more control than I thought I had."

"Controlling yourself is probably the hardest thing for people to achieve I think." Adrien says.

Harry thinks of Louis and wonders if Louis finds it harder to control himself or Harry. He thinks it's probably the prior.

"Harry, I know you have someone special at home, and I would never want to insinuate anything... but it is late at night, and you are welcome to my bed. I will happily sleep on the couch." Adrien offers.

And moving from this spot doesn't really sound appealing at all. Calling a French taxi and waiting for it to show up. Going back out into the wind. Driving a half hour home. Wait-

"You like guys?" Harry blinks, his eyelids heavy with relaxation and sleep.

Adrien smiles. "I do not think gender or sexuality is any reason to stop yourself from loving someone. Love is love."

"Yeah." Harry feels safe to agree. "I think so too."

"Shall I call a cab for you then? Or would you like to," Adrien changes to an over exaggerated American accent, "'crash here?'" He ends his question with a giggle.

"Yeah." Harry smiles like an idiot. "I can crash here."

They both finish what's left in their wine glasses and then Adrien leads Harry to his room. It's littered with canvases. Some finished and hung, some half painted, and others, merely sketched in pencil.

"The linens are fresh. Help yourself to any night clothes." Adrien motions towards the closet.

"Thank you. For everything." Harry breathes in the pine nut and acrylic scent of Adrien's room.

"You're welcome." Adrien looks to the floor, then back up to Harry, holding out a business card to him. "I will probably be gone before you are up in the morning, but if you happen to find more time during your stay in France, my doors are open for you."

Harry briefly glances at the business card that is a simple watercolor landscape with _Adrien Pierre_ and contact information written on it in script and it's all very French and lovely and the air smells like wine still. "Definitely. And next time you come to New York, you can call me anytime. I'll message you later with my contact information."

"And if, you do not stay in France for very long and if I do not go back to New York and tonight is our final goodbye, would it be appropriate to leave you with a parting kiss?" Adrien asks, genuinely.

Harry finds himself grinning instead of blushing. Giddy instead of anxious. Nodding his head instead of shaking it.

So Adrien steps forward and places a small kiss to each cheek, then a chaste kiss to Harry's lips. They taste like Riesling and pine nuts and are fuller than Louis'-

Before he can finish that thought and question himself, Adrien pulls away. "Thank you Harry. Sweet dreams."

Harry nods, mostly to himself, and collapses on the bed to fall asleep in seconds.

~~~

L

It's a little after midnight when Louis receives the call.

He'd been tossing and turning since getting in bed anyway.

He turns on his nightstand lamp and sits at the edge of the bed and answers his phone. "Well good evening. Didn't realize this would be the beginning of such a loquacious relationship that includes, but is not limited to, midnight calls."

"Harry is A.W.O.L. Please tell me you're in contact with him." Desmond sounds very, very stressed. Too stressed for the midnight hour.

"I haven't heard from him since this afternoon. Almost 2pm our time. 10pm his." Louis yawns.

"It's after 8am there and he never came back to the hotel after leaving. The hotel left him multiple messages- Niall's been calling him. I just wanted to see if you knew." Desmond says.

"Jesus. Just track his phone. You don't need to send the FBI after him." Louis says, even though it's a little alarming that Harry managed to not make it back to his hotel his first night in a foreign country.

" _Thank you_ Mr. Tomlinson. That was my _next_ move. But I would rather have a full story if you had one than data that comes to me from a location map." Desmond snaps.

"You're fucking welcome." Louis deadpans.

Desmond hangs up on him.

Fucking dick.

Louis lays back down and stares at the ceiling.

He picks his phone back up and calls Hilde who answers after the first ring.

"Mr. Tomlinson? How can I help you?" She asks, voice fully awake, as she works from the Germany office.

"I'm sending you a phone number. Please track it, give me the location and who owns the address, if anyone, and send me all the information you have on them." Louis says, not feeling the least bit tired anymore.

"Consider it done." She hangs up before Louis can and Louis should give her a raise too.

It's hardly a minute later when his email is flooded with information.

Harry is in a house that belongs to an Adrien Pierre, who is as clean as they come. Young and cute, he's an aspiring artist and web developer who spends his millions of dollars investing into other companies- which- according to a recent French tabloid, is going to be Roots as of tomorrow. Pictures of Harry stepping out of the airport accompanying a quote from Adrien saying that when it comes to investing in companies, character and progression mean more to him than history and number projections.

Louis blinks at all the information for a while before piecing together that Harry wasn't even supposed to _meet_ Adrien for another five hours.

So. As Louis sees it. One of three options could be the case.

One. Adrien kidnapped Harry.

Not likely.

Two. Harry and Adrien met by happenstance, hit it off, and the night ended with Harry staying at Adrien's house.

Possible.

Three. Adrien decided to preemptively meet Harry before their meeting to get the _real_ information he wanted out of him, and the night ended with Harry staying at Adrien's house.

Probable.

All three options end with Adrien being a dead man and Harry being in a fuck ton of trouble.

However.

Louis is walking a fine line. He and Harry haven't discussed boundaries and limits again. Louis can't come at him with the fury of a thousand raging nuns because it may make Harry run for the hills.

So he'll stay quiet and let things play themselves out.

For now.

~~~

H

When Harry wakes up, the sun is shining through curtains he doesn't recognize and he has a pounding headache.

He reaches for his phone, only to see that it had died. He only sees a Metal Core charger plugged into the wall and mentally notes to ask Louis to make their company's phone chargers compatible with the rest of the world's. Then when he looks around to see himself surrounded by canvas, last night's memories sink back in piece by piece.

That's when he realizes he's supposed to be meeting Mr. Pierre today and prays that he hasn't overslept. Scrambling to find a clock, he finally spots a digital one in the kitchen that isn't broken and tells him it's almost noon.

Fuck. He has barely an hour to get home, shower, dry his hair, get dressed, and make it to the meeting on time.

Luckily he fell asleep in last night's clothes, so he just heads straight for the door. Hung there, though, is a note with a key.

_Harry,_

_Please use this to lock the door behind you. You may keep it as a sentiment for your first night in Paris or can throw it on a rubbish bin on your way out; but either way you are always welcome back into my home._

_Thank you again for gracing me with your company._

_-Adrien xx_

Harry shoves the note into his pocket as more pieces from last night fall into place and locks the door behind him. He sprints to the curb as the tangy taste of last night's wine still sits on his tongue.

He hails a cab and tells the driver the name of the hotel, hoping he knows where it is. The half hour back to the hotel ends up taking 45 minutes because of daytime traffic and Harry panics because he doesn't even have a phone to let anyone know he's going to be late.

He's going to fuck up the entire meeting before he even has a chance to try at it and Louis is going to be disappointed in him and-

Louis is going to be disappointed in him.

That rings through his body as Harry searches for grounds for it to even be a relevant emotion. Between the jetlag and the hangover, Harry pushes his mind to remember the events with clarity. There were crepes, then a scarf, then a bar, then a dinner, then a _lot_ of wine- then a kiss.

And there it is. Seared into his brain. Acrylics and pine nuts and soft, full lips with the warmth of the Riesling they had drank all night.

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to have a breakdown. Not now. Not before his meeting. Later. Maybe even when he gets home and can have Louis punish him. He thinks. Because- the contract... right? Or no? Does Harry want to be punished regardless? Does he regret kissing Adrien?

The onslaught of questions mostly makes him want to scream. So he shuts it all off right as the cab pulls up to his hotel. Harry lets the driver run his card, and then he books it at mock 90 up to his hotel room.

Phone in the charger, he jumps in the shower and gets his hair dried in 10 minutes. His phone has turned on and the first thing that pops up is a reminder for his meeting with Mr. Pierre in nine minutes with the location listed as-

Oh.

The meeting is in the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel.

Harry lets out an enormous sigh of relief as he puts on his Brazilian suit to give him the confidence he can achieve only by channeling Louis, slips his still kind-of-mostly dirty Chelseas back on, and pockets his phone.

He calmly walks into the elevator and presses the lobby button.

~~~


	44. Chapter 44

A/N: Sorry, the pics still aren't cooperating with me :/ Feel free to check them out on Wattpad though! Same username :) All the love and thank you for the patience <3

 

~~~

H

The meeting room is underwhelming compared to everything else that Harry's been faced with so far.

So the second he walks through the door, there's actually nothing to distract from the fact that Adrien is sitting at the table in the middle of the room in a suit and tie with a large stack of papers in front of him.

Adrien turns to stare at Harry, and Harry stares at Adrien.

Harry stops dead in his tracks for fear of tripping over himself. "Adrien?"

Adrien looks as much as a fish out of water as Harry feels right now. "Harry... Styles. From New York... and Roots..."

"No." Harry's stomach drops and he turns around to let his face freak out for a moment while he runs his hands through his hair a couple dozen times. Then he turns around vehemently. "Did you know?" He demands. "Last night. Did you know who I was?"

Adrien pushes his chair back to stand up and stare at the table. "I had no idea- I- did you know who _I_ was? My business card had my full name on it..."

"I didn't- no. I swear I had no idea." Harry defends himself. "I didn't even realize- I mean- the wine and... I would never do that."

Adrien chuckles and shakes his head. "Who would believe this, eh?"

Harry smiles in spite of himself, anger turning into elated astonishment. "You're really Mr. Pierre?"

" _Me_?" Adrien motions to himself. "Are _you_ really Mr. Styles Junior?"

"God this is crazy." Harry runs a hand through his hair again. "Please, just Harry though. I hate my surname."

"You hate your surname and you hate Roots phones and you hate New York?" Adrien quirks an eyebrow. "This is quite the dilemma I see."

"It's a long story." Harry huffs out a small laugh.

"Well then." Adrien claps his hands together. "What do you say we take this to the Champ de Mars then? Better than a stuffy hotel room."

"What about your papers?" Harry nods towards the large stack of them.

"Pfft." Adrien waves away at them flippantly. "Come, come Harry! Notre-Dame, The Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, Champs-Elysees, endless shopping- _so_ many things await! Let's give you the full Paris experience! Tell your father I will be investing. I'll have my P.A. work out all the details."

Harry decides he loves business if this is how all meetings and trips are supposed to go. Adrien hails a taxi and Harry grins like a maniac, not sure the last time he's been this excited for anything.

~~~

L

It's almost 9am before Louis hears from Harry.

Via fucking Twitter.

**@MetalCoreLouis What about black and red sparkly heels? ;)**

And there's a picture of new sparkly black and red boots on Harry in some French boutique with the Eiffel tower outside the window. In his João Pimenta suit.

Louis has a possessive streak that, latitudally speaking, is as long as the equator. However, the things and people who happen to make it into that realm are few and far between.

He hadn't realized Harry had even become one of those persons until this very moment. Probably somewhere between waking up to pictures of Harry and Adrien strewn all across the internet, a selfie that had been stolen from Adrien's mCloud (Louis would have to let out another security update), and Harry ignoring _every_ fucking Skype message but taking the time to respond to Louis' tweet that he sent out _yesterday_ \- while presumably still in the presence of Adrien- has Louis' finger hovering over the CONFIRM AIRFRANCE PURCHASE button on his computer screen.

Zayn comes through the door before he can make any purchases though. "Mr. Tomlinson, the BCA Charity would like to request-"

"Zayn, pack my suitcase with nothing but belts and canes- and a whip for good measure. I'm going to fucking France." Louis stands up abruptly and adjusts his wrist cuffs.

"Not to piss in your Cheerios, but by the time you get to France, Harry will be asleep and then catching his plane back to New York first thing in the morning." Zayn says like he knows what this is all about. "Also, I'll book the charity speech and donation."

"Fuck you." Louis sits his ass back down in his chair. "And cancel the internet for today! I'm sick of seeing this bullshit everywhere!"

"Will do." Zayn says over his shoulder as he leaves Louis' office.

Louis exits out of the internet browser and glares at the desktop picture of his company logo bouncing around in front of him.

"Fuck everything." He mutters to himself.

~~~

H

Harry holds his stomach as he buckles over in laughter at the anecdote Adrien's just told him about when he was younger and got caught pissing on the Eiffel Tower at 4am whilst intoxicated. Harry's new cardigan is thrown across the back of Adrien's lounge chair next to his scarf. His bag of new sparkly boots is next to Adrien's two pair of Shriner Daytons. His suitcase has been moved from his hotel to Adrien's bedroom floor. It smells like pine nuts, acrylics, and the Bordeaux Malbec they've been drinking.

When their laughter dies down, Harry takes another swig of his wine, following it with a gulp of water so that he doesn't have a headache tomorrow morning. "You know how I said earlier how I didn't even want to come here in the first place?"

Adrien nods. "Oui."

Harry smiles down at his glass of red wine, then up at Adrien. "I'm glad I did."

Adrien bites his lip and laughs. "I'm glad you did too."

"When are you coming to New York next?" He asks impulsively.

"When do you want me to?" Adrien counters immediately.

Harry loves how forward and open he is. "Well... soon. Maybe when I take over my father's company? You can come celebrate the beginning of the end with me."

"That I will." Adrien holds his glass up to Harry. "I'll be there for March 26th too, when you give him a middle finger and leave back to Kentucky."

Harry smirks. "And you'll withdraw your investments and we'll both fuck over the company."

Adrien laughs. "As they, say: karma is a bitch."

Harry clinks his wine glass to Adrien's and they both take a drink.

It's been a whirlwind of a day. Harry's seen more things than he ever thought he'd see in his entire life. Places he didn't even know existed. Places he's hardly heard of or only seen pictures of.

Minus the details about Louis and his relationship with him, Adrien knows Harry's life story. He knows his dreams and aspirations. Knows his fears and what he loves and hates in life.

Harry knows Adrien's as well. He knows that Adrien loves his family. He knows he loves cracking the hard layer of crème brulee more than the taste of it. His favorite sound is that of the whirring of bicycles. He would never use his money to make him famous for his paintings; and keeps the two endeavors as separate as possible. He knows that Adrien loves the smell of cinnamon-apple potpourri and loves that Harry wears sparkly boots. Business trips have mostly ruined the concept of traveling for him, so he prefers to stay close to home. He believes love belongs to everyone and should be given freely.

And Harry feels lighter, perhaps, than he's ever felt before. In an individualistic sense. In the sense of self-awareness and confidence. Feeling light due to chemical manipulations that Louis gives to him is an entire thing separate in and of itself. But Adrien makes him feel comfortable. Equal in a way that is different than the equality he feels with Louis. Except- that wouldn't be fair to say because Harry actually feels that Adrien is fascinated with Harry in the way Harry is fascinated with Louis. And he feels light just because he's giddy about life and... well. That's new to him.

"It's 3am again. How do we manage to stay up so late?" Adrien swirls his wine around more before drinking from it again.

Harry doesn't answer. Because he doesn't have an answer. He can't name whatever it is that makes time fly by when he's with Adrien.

Adrien looks at him with lazy intent. "What time is your flight tomorrow?"

Harry chuckles. "7am."

"Mon Dieu." Adrien whistles. "Would you like some tea before bed?"

"No thank you." Harry takes another drink, happy that he feels very much content. Not like he might spontaneously start beating someone. He thinks self-control is something one decides to have. And so is anger.

Adrien stands to clear the table of the dinner they bought and prepared together. Harry stays seated because even if he did offer to help, he knows Adrien would refuse anyway. So he simply grabs his glass and goes to lean against the counter next to Adrien while he does dishes.

Adrien keeps sneaking quick side glances to Harry that has Harry smirking for no reason other than feeling happy.

When Harry finishes his glass of wine, he sets it on the wooden cutting board and Adrien picks that up too to wash it.

"I should get to bed." Harry says to the now clean kitchen table.

"Oui." Adrien wipes his hands off on a towel. "My maid changed the linens today. They are fresh for you."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." Harry breathes out, simply because he's relaxed, and grips his fingers against the underside of the counter. "And I think I might fall asleep standing up."

Adrien chuckles. "I will probably stay up and read some. Don't wait on me."

Harry nods, then impulsively grabs Adrien to hug him. They lean into each other and Harry feels Adrien's soft hair tickle his chin and breathes in the smell of what France means to him.

"Thank you for everything." Harry murmurs.

"Thank _you_ , Harry, for everything." Adrien responds.

Harry lets him go and gives him a silly grin before walking away and into his bedroom.

The paintings welcome him with a silent reverence that makes Harry want to wrap a blanket around himself and listen to the rain fall all day with a glass of wine in his hands. He wonders when rain and alcohol became something relaxing in his mind verses something that caused hectic chaos on the farm.

He strips and collapses into the warm colored sheets- glad that he has his luggage so his phone can be charging. He picks it up and dismisses a couple of kind and inquiring messages from Louis and opts for calling him instead.

Louis picks up nearly instantly. "Baby? What time is it there? Are you okay?"

Harry nods into the soft, down pillow. "I'm good. Just wanted to call you before going to sleep." He pauses. "I come home tomorrow."

"I know you do." Louis' voice has a tense edge to it that Harry can't decipher.

"I missed you." Harry says honestly.

"Did you?" It comes out clipped.

Harry smiles though, because it's Louis, and he likes when Louis is all business-like with him. "Yeah, I did."

There's a pause. Then. "I missed you too baby."

"I think I'm drunk." Harry turns on his side to face a canvas that has a lake sketched on it in pencil. He thinks he wants to visit that lake someday.

"What? Why? Where are you?" Louis rushes out.

"Wine. Lots of French wine. But not French fries. I didn't realize those were American." Harry giggles, thinking back on Adrien waving 'French fries' in front of his face and calling them an abomination to the French food culture.

"Who were you with? Why were you drinking? Are you okay?" Louis' voice goes from tense to tender.

"Adrien. He's a really good friend. I really like France, Louis." Harry's eyes blink closed. "And you should make your phone chargers compatible with the rest of the world." He yawns.

He's not sure what Louis says next, but he knows that it's the strong and comforting sound of his Dominant that lulls him to sleep.

~~~

Harry sits on the plane, all relaxation from last night completely gone.

The sound of the jet engines firing up, the blinking of the cabin lights, the smell of artificial air, the sound of people coughing and kids screaming, the feel of too much plastic trapping him in...

He grips into the textured arm rest and closes his eyes. He breathes in and out, ignoring the sound of the seatbelt sign turning on, off, then on again.

Maybe things would be easier, except for that planes are his nemesis. They are actually the devil and throw all sense of Harry's equilibrium off kilter. There isn't solid ground under his feet, there isn't open air, there isn't any sense of stability.

Kind of like how his emotions feel right now.

It's like the plane itself has yanked Harry from the wonderful days he's spent in France and spat all over his memories. It's like the plane mocks that Harry is trying to go back home. The plane wins either way.

And Harry feels torn, really. Torn that he has to leave behind what were unbelievable experiences in his first foreign country and that he has to get back to work for his father and Niall and ugh.

He's sweating, but it's too fucking cold in the plane, and he has no idea how he's supposed to assimilate back to normal life after this. Not after Adrien and France. Not after this fresh hell of torture that people call transportation.

He wants _something_ to grasp onto. Something to look forward to. Something to feel familiar and safe.

The plane lifts off the ground and Harry nearly jumps out of his skin- stomach dropping as the ground gets farther and farther from his reach.

"God, God, God, God." He repeats to himself.

"Are you okay sir?" The woman next to him asks and places a hand on his shoulder.

"Fine." Harry smothers his face with his hands. "Don't touch me please."

The woman makes a disgruntled sound and puts her hands back in her lap.

He really doesn't want anyone touching him but Louis. In fact, he wishes Louis _was_ here to touch him right now. Or like, at the airport to smother and touch him the moment he gets off the plane. To erase all the smells and sounds and sights of transportation and replace it with everything Louis.

Which.

The second the seatbelt sign turns off, Harry yanks out his phone, connects it to the Wi-Fi, and messages Louis.

**Can we please do a scene when I get home? I'll do anything. Please.**

He grips into his phone like a lifeline while he waits for Louis to respond.

~~~

L

Louis is in the conference room with the executive board- all on a conference call with their international public relations team when he gets the message from Harry.

Zayn takes note of Louis' immediate interest in his phone and they give a sideways glance to each other. Louis messages Harry back.

**Of course baby. I have something special in mind. Come to my house as soon as you're off the plane.**

Louis taps his fingers on the notepad in front of him, then writes a message to Zayn.

_Suggestions?_

Zayn's face stays completely stoic as he stares at the yellow legal pad in front of him as he writes his response.

_Seriously?_

Louis rolls his eyes.

_I'm walking a fine line. This is not normal protocol here. I can't overdo it and risk scaring him off._

Zayn knows the gist of the situation, and recognizing that Louis isn't asking him out of lack of creativity- but as a sounding board- makes him give a slight nod of the head to let Louis know he understands.

_I'd recommend staying away from impact play right away then. Or role play. Too intense. Go with something you guys have done a couple times and up the ante with it._

Aside from his other BDSM friend, Corey- whom Louis hasn't seen in a while- it's nice to have someone to talk to the day-to-day things about. Corey has always been a softer Dom than Louis though- always reminding him that positive reinforcement is the strongest kind of teaching there is. And it's worked great for Corey- they have had really successful- and some really long- relationships as far as Louis has been able to tell.

He doesn't know a lot about Zayn and Gigi's relationship or what it entails, but he gets the vibe that they are stricter than Louis is. He can see it in the practiced way that they treat each other- always on the same page- in a way that only those who have been in a long term relationship like they have can pull off.

So Louis might do well to listen to what they have to say since he's somewhere in between and notoriously cannot keep subs for extended periods of time.

Zayn's voice breaks him from his train of thought. "Yes, Mr. Tomlinson has given extensive leeway with the budget for this next quarter and approved it multiple times now."

Louis huffs because he works with a bunch of ignoramuses in international public relations. He should fire them all and rebuild the team from scratch. "Do I look like I have any more time to waste on the matter? It's been months, and after your half assed attempts to keep up with North America's fourth quarter-"

The crackly voice through the speakers interrupts him. "Mr. Tomlinson, that's hardly fair as the U.S. team has Black Friday to make up for-"

Louis slams a hand on the table. " _One_ , do not interrupt me. _Two_ , do I sound like I _give_ a mother fuck for your pathetic excuses? Roots is having their most successful quarter in international sales- so much so that it's made their Black Friday revenue look like _pennies_ \- so _don't_ try feeding me that bullshit."

"They also have the hype around Mr. Styles Junior to enhance their success sir- and the recent release of their new operating system." The voice rebuttals.

"The OS was released over half a year ago and we now have a three-month advantage on any new technology coming out due to some contracts I've arranged. As far as Mr. Styles Junior- you have my word that any hype around him taking over the company will vanish in the next six months. Now, do I need to find someone more competent to do your job, or do you think you can manage to keep your department afloat till then?" Louis seethes.

There's mumbled grumbling on the other end of the speaker. Then. "Yes Mr. Tomlinson. We'll make sure the annual budget comes out positive."

"Next order of business." Louis snaps.

They move on and so does Louis.

He scribbles on the notepad.

_Can you think of anything thin enough to freeze water to the size needed to fit into a urethra?_

He shoves the notepad to Zayn who looks at it for a few moments, then writes a response.

_Any ice that thin would melt before you could get it in long enough for any affect. Why not just do the trays that freeze long cylindrical ice for water bottles for the ass?_

Louis gives an appreciative glance to Zayn's suggestion.

_Do they sell those at the store down the street?_

Zayn shrugs.

_I can check._

Louis shakes his head. He'll check himself on the way out of work. He writes back.

_How many do you suppose can fit? I've never done that before. How high is the risk of going into shock?_

Zayn considers it for a moment before replying.

_Depends on if you're using a stretcher or not. They're slightly smaller than the rim of a water bottle, so probably two if you're going in raw. With a stretcher... the possibilities are endless._

_No risk of physical shock unless you're impaling up to the point of possibly perforating the colon- so don't shove them in all the way. Take care of physiological shock though._

Louis smiles.

He knows what he's doing to Harry tonight.

~~~


	45. Chapter 45

~~~

Louis sits on his couch in his scarlet robe with a glass of water while he listens to the sound of Harry scrambling out of the elevator and up to his door. He stands up to go answer since he knows Harry will knock even though he doesn't have to.

So Louis is rather shocked when Harry comes bursting through the door- nearly pummeling over Louis while kicking off his shoes and making a beeline for the scene room.

Louis turns around to blink as Harry rounds the corner to the hallway. No greeting. No acknowledgement. His front door is still open.

Interesting.

He can't decide whether or not that makes him want to reward him for his eagerness or punish him for his disrespect. He's leaning towards rewarding until he stumbles over Harry's black and red new, sparkly Chelseas from France.

Louis glares at the boots like they've started World War III and fights the urge to chuck them out the window and ordering Frankie to exterminate them to the deepest pits of hell. The shoes mock Louis' lack of control over himself and his sub. His sub who thinks it's okay to flaunt himself around a foreign country with some ponce who has more than questionable intentions.

Harry is definitely getting punished.

Determination anew, he rolls his sleeves up and stalks into the scene room. Harry's knelt, naked, and on the bed with his eyes shut tight. Louis slams the door so hard that it makes Harry yelp and jump. He keeps his eyes closed though.

"Get up." Louis says, dangerously low.

Harry's eyes fly open as he avoids Louis' and stands stick straight with his hands pinned to his side facing the back wall.

Louis comes up behind him to grip a hand into his hair hard enough to make it hurt. "You think it's okay to come bombarding through my house and throw your fucking _shoes_ on my carpet without even addressing me?"

Harry's eyes stay scrunched shut and other than his open mouth, he stays completely still. "No sir!"

Louis releases his hair with a small shove that makes Harry regain his balance. "Get on the table on all fours."

Harry doesn't even nod, just runs to the table like his life depends on it and the second he realizes there are shackles attached, he places his ankles in perfect alignment with them.

"You think just your ankles are getting restrained?" Louis fastens the leather around each ankle so that they are certainly tight enough to keep Harry from slipping out, but not so tight that there is any risk of the blood flow getting cut off.

Harry gasps, seemingly surprised, at the fact that he's dropped from his hands to his forearm like he his brain had no say in the matter. Like his body responds to Louis' orders without him even complying.

Louis fastens his wrists one at a time. "Do I need to get out my rope to restrain the rest of you like a fucking horse, or will you stay still?"

Louis is about as far from a cowboy as they come. But he's watched hundreds of videos on different ways to restrain subs. Some of which derived from restraining intransigent stallions while branding and shawing them.

"I'll stay still, I swear." Harry says it like a plea.

Louis grabs a blindfold because it's cute that Harry is keeping his eyes closed. But tonight it's going to be _Louis'_ doing that Harry doesn't have access to one of his senses, not Harry's. Harry catches on as quickly too- his squeak of offense is silenced by the time Louis finishes the knot at the back of his head.

"How do you feel being naked on the table with your ass up in the air for me? God, I can't believe you were so eager to run into my house and disrespect me. You can't run now baby." Louis opens a drawer to reveal a plethora of nipple clamps. "Color?"

"Green." The muscle groups in Harry's body flex then relax one-by-one.

It's something Louis' noticed with Harry. At the beginning of scenes it's like Harry's testing out exactly how much power he has over what's happening to him. It's how Harry knew without a doubt that he could break the plastic handcuffs, but didn't even bother trying to fight against the metal ones. It's how Harry knew not to wiggle when he was in the arm and leg braces.

And the way Harry looks on the table. He looks... too loose. Louis wants to change that.

So he grabs nipple clamps that have an accompanying collar that's attached. That way Harry will feel it every time he moves his head. He opts for a generic chain collar to add the effect of added weight with flat, rubber nipple clamps.

Louis walks up to him, letting the chain rattle so Harry can hear it as he approaches. He pushes the unruly curls to the side then fondly rubs a hand around Harry's neck a couple times- wondering if Harry expects him to squeeze. Judging by the way Harry holds his breath, he is certainly anticipating it.

Louis wraps the cold chain around his neck, loving the way Harry relaxes into it. When the metal wraps around his neck, Harry gasps, but elicits no signs of fear. After it's secured, Louis pulls the nipple clamps into place and fastens them around Harry so that his now-perky nipples are swelling in between the hard rubber, making him moan in response.

Taking a step back to admire the look of Harry strapped down, ass in the air, and his head ducked into his chest so the chain sags from his collar to his chest, he grins.

He can tell Harry's getting into the zone by the way he lets his body reduce into a submissive puddle of ink. So Louis rolls up his sleeves and walks over to the freezer to pull out the first round of ice. He sets the tray next to Harry, making sure the ice cubes clatter amongst themselves to keep Harry guessing.

He picks up a single cube and holds it in his hand over Harry's spine until it melts just enough to leak a tiny droplet onto the base of his neck. The second the liquid contacts Harry's skin, it erupts into a thousand goosebumps, but he doesn't make a sound.

Louis places the cube on his back and drags it down the length of his curved spine. The lower Louis makes it with the cube, the more Harry's back arches; then when he makes it to his tailbone, Louis slips the cube down and in passed his rim. Harry reacts by letting out a long sigh as if someone had just started massaging him.

So Louis lands a stinging slap across his ass cheek. "Do- _not_ \- take me or my position for granted. I expect _respect_ when you're in my house."

Harry yelps once in surprise, then another time when his head jerking up yanks at the nipple clamps attached to his collar. His arms reflexively move, presumably to fight away the pulling and tugging at his nipples. When he discovers there's nothing to be done about it, his hands ball up into a fist.

Louis smirks. "Color?"

Harry pauses for a beat. "Green."

"Now tell me why you were so eager to come barging into my house the second you got back into the States." Louis commands, still not knowing 100 percent where Harry's urgent request came from.

"I needed something to focus on during the plane ride. I needed something to de-stress." Harry rushes out quickly.

Stability and homeostasis. It's exactly why Louis uses scenes to decompress from trips. There's just shit that happens in other countries that he mentally can't bring home and carry with himself. It seems Harry's found comfort in the routine and discipline of it all too.

Louis smiles wider as he grabs the next ice cube and sticks it between Harry's big toe and the little one next to it. "Don't let it drop, or you're getting five spanks."

"Yes sir." Harry says, flexing his toes tighter to grip onto it.

But the ice cube pops right out from between his toes.

"Baby." Louis tsks. "What did I just tell you?"

Harry gives himself white knuckles with how much pressure he's putting on his fists. "You told me not to let the ice drop or else I get five spanks."

"Do you think you deserve five spanks for letting the ice drop?" Louis asks like Harry will say anything other than 'yes.'

"Yes sir." Harry says clearly.

There's no hesitation or tempo to the quick spanks, and it makes Harry grunt out at the sting. Louis watches as Harry reflexively tenses his back and head again, collar pulling at the nipple clamps, and the useless way he balls his hands into a fist.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Louis plucks another ice cube from the tray and puts it between his toes.

It stays put this time.

So Louis puts another between the toes on his other foot and smiles at Harry's discomfort. He places an ice cube on Harry's neck, one between his shoulder blades, and one at the small of his back for good measure too. That way Harry will feel as each cube continuously melts and pools or drips down his body.

Finished with the smaller cubes for now, he takes the tray back to the freezer and swaps it out for the cylindrical ice. He runs each icicle under tap water until the tacky layer is off, then positions himself behind Harry's legs.

He runs one of the icicles up the inside of Harry's leg, leaving behind a wet trail in its wake. He circles the rounded point of the icicle around Harry's rim and watches with pleasure as Harry's body tenses and relaxes at the temperature change. Slowly, Louis pushes the ice in so that Harry can feel the slick glide of the ice water drip down his ball sack.

Harry whimpers over and over again as he hangs his head low- chains drooping and at no risk to pull at the attached nipple clamps.

Louis pushes it in until his fingers are touching the puckered skin of Harry's rim. Then slowly, slowly lets it drag as he pulls it out. He notes that his fingers are throbbing from the harsh temperature of the ice. "Color."

"Cold. But green." Harry says.

Louis pulls a face because this is where he has to decide if Harry is yellow or just trusting Louis to not give him more than he can take. He believes it to be the latter. His instincts tell him so, and his and Harry's talks on trust tell him so. But he'll play it safe for a minute.

He turns his attention to Harry's feet where the ice has melted from in between his toes. He rolls the cylindrical ice up and down the soles of Harry's feet until it's liquefied and dripping from his skin.

Louis chucks the remaining bit of the ice cube off to the side while he grabs a rattan cane. "This is going to hurt more than last time."

"What sir?" Harry automatically tries swiveling his head- apparently already having forgotten about the collar that restricts him from doing so. He cringes back into position with nothing but a small squawk from his mouth.

"Your feet are wet, so this is going to hurt more." Louis prepares him by rubbing the end of the cane against the bottoms of his feet.

He also says as much to freak Harry out a little. It's not that it's _not_ partly true. But it's only going to make it sting more which makes it a little less unpleasant for Harry. He already knows it won't be anything he can't handle though. But Harry won't think he can unless Louis tells him so. "Pick a number."

"Um-" Harry starts.

Louis gives him a smack on the ass because if Harry needs discipline right now, he's getting it for his speech too.

"'Um' _isn't_ an answer. Try. Again." He says with a dangerous steel in his voice.

Harry sucks in a breath. "Ten."

Louis rolls his eyes because Harry probably took 60 hits to his feet last time. "Start counting then." And follows his words with the first hit of the rattan cane to his soles.

"Oh my God!" Harry's entire body jerks and rattles the table. "One!"

Louis chuckles as he watches Harry think he's in immense pain. "Color?"

"Green." Harry says immediately.

So Louis lets the cane slice through the air again and snap at a different part of Harry's arch.

When Harry counts number nine out loud is when he lets out a sob with it.

Louis smiles at the bright pink marks along the vaults of Harry's feet and lands a hard thud for the last one.

"T-ten!" Harry cries as he balls his hands into fists and struggles to not fight at the restraints holding his forearms and calves against the table.

Louis sets the cane aside and picks up the anal stretcher and some lube. Coating his finger in some, he rubs it around Harry's rim and pushes it in to prep it for the metal device. He withdraws his finger then slides the stretcher in easily and adjusts the size to accommodate two of the icicles.

"It's so cold-" Harry chokes out.

"It's just a metal stretcher baby." Louis pinches his inner thigh before walking over to the freezer and pulling out two icicles.

When he gets back over to Harry, he purposely places the ice against either ankle to let Harry know there are two. They each deposit a small water trail up until they reach their destination at Harry's crack and Louis slides them in simultaneously.

"Holy shit- shit fuu-" Harry's back bows, but he keeps his chin as close to his chest as he can. "Sorry-"

Louis quirks an eyebrow, not sure why Harry is deciding to apologize now of all times. "Sorry for what baby?" He slowly works the ice in and out of Harry.

"I-I- fuck." Harry gasps. "I disrespected you."

"Don't be ambiguous." Louis spanks him, and is slightly confused why Harry is still stuck on the whole punishment from earlier. This is supposed to be for his pleasure now. Well- maybe it's more pleasurable for Harry when he believes it's a punishment.

"I didn't knock and I didn't take off my shoes and Adrien kissed me." Harry cries.

Who the fuck? What- what? "What?" Louis' heart thuds out of his chest. "What?"

"I deserve to be punished because I disrespected you." Harry wails.

Jesus Christ. Fuck. Fuck.

As much as he wants to keep him locked to this able and under severe emotional and physical trauma, Louis _cannot_ hit or punish Harry now. If he does, it will be emotional. And if it's emotional, it's abuse in Louis' book. Fuck.

He immediately detaches himself from any emotions to finish the scene like a responsible Dom. "And do you feel like you've paid your proper penance for disrespecting me?"

"Yes! I'm sorry- I'm so sorry!" He bawls.

Louis twists the ice out of Harry slowly and mechanically pulls the stretcher out of him and unstraps him from the table. Then it's off with the collar and nipple clamps and untying the blindfold.

Harry's blotchy face has dried and fresh tear tracks everywhere and he keeps his eyes shut tight as he lets himself fall forward into Louis and continues crying.

"It's okay baby. I've got you." Louis scoops him into his arms and carries him into his bedroom. "I'm right here. It's alright."

Harry grips into his shoulders and neck and it feels like daggers in Louis' skin because he wants to very much kick Harry out and call Frankie on Adrien. But he doesn't. Instead, he wraps Harry in blankets and turns on the heating pad while he spoons Harry to sleep.

He stares at the wall, reminding himself that he’s doing this to get his dad out of prison.

~~~

**/Sneak peek for next chapter/**

 

Louis’ jaw drops at that.  “So are you telling me he kissed you- knowing- that I was your boyfriend?  Or are you telling me you’ve given your biggest investor the biggest blackmail on the planet to wreck your plan to say in the closet?”

“Neither!”  Harry is so.  Fucking.  Frustrated.  “He asked me if he could kiss me- I said yes.  I didn’t say I had a _boyfriend_ , I just said there was someone special in my life because I didn’t know what else to call us.  And he doesn’t know it’s _you_.  He just knows there’s someone.  He specifically said that he didn’t want to come between me and you.”

“How fucking considerate of his ass.  Because he came between us anyway.  And if you were thinking with _any_ kind of logic, you would have been able to prevent the entire situation.”  Louis reprimands.

 

~~~


	46. 46 Monopolize Me

 

A/N: I apologize, I didn't realize I'm about 10 chapters behind on uploads here. I'll upload some more tomorrow, but more of the story is already posted on Wattpad (same username) if you can't wait till then. Sorry all, and thank you for still reading.

 

-Dannie

  
~~~

H

Harry wakes up to slivers of sun shining on his face. He yawns and breathes in the wonderful scent of cologne. Louis' cologne.

A grin slices his face in two as he realizes he's finally back in America. He's back with Louis. He's back _home_.

He opens his eyes and hugs himself in Louis' duvet, replaying the events of last night and how it feels like all worries have washed away.

But when he sits up, he sees Louis sitting in an armchair across the room in his scarlet robe with the contract in his lap.

Harry's eyes widen to three times their normal size, knowing that look from Louis means shit is about to hit the fan.

"Morning." Louis says with a strained edge of anger.

"Morning." Harry whispers.

"Want to tell me more about what happened between you and Adrien?" Louis says a little on the side of manic.

"I-" Harry's breath catches. "I already did."

"Please repeat section 2.2.1.6 for me then. And, pray tell, was it a direction violation of it, or was it a cultural kiss on the cheek?" Louis asks like he's challenging Harry to lie about it.

"'The submissive will not enter into any sexual relations with anyone other than the Dominant.'" Harry wants to bury himself in Louis' duvet then roll himself off the balcony. "And it was a direct violation- but he kissed me. I didn't see it coming... but I also didn't stop it either. But that's all it was- I _swear_. It was just late and I had a bit of alcohol and it only happened once."

"Wow." Louis says in stone. "Really now?"

Harry doesn't know why that makes him angry but it does. It's not like Harry was trying to hide it or justify it. It's not like he's looking for sympathy either. It just makes him angry because- because _why_?

Then the Twitter trend and pictures of Louis and Billie Joe kissing come to the forefront of his mind and the conversation they had after those events.

Harry quotes Louis verbatim from memory with more than a slight edge of attitude. "'It was just a kiss and hardly one at that.' Furthermore, you broke up with me, so no terms were violated."

Louis cocks his head to the side, amused. "What a very political answer. And you think that's going to get you out of it?"

"'I think fair is only definable by which parameters are set in place. Since there currently aren't any, there are neither ways to prove nor disprove what is fair and what is not.'" Harry quotes Louis' exact response to Harry from last time.

That's when the cool in Louis' demeanor turns to ice. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

He's not sure when the urge to fight Louis back became of utmost important to him. But he thinks it came from somewhere between feeling like he's too valuable to Louis for Louis to just throw away, and feeling like they've both invested too much into the relationship for either of them to just walk away. More than anything though, he wishes Louis would just drop it. Harry paid his punishment that Louis delivered. They should both just move on.

"No." Harry stands up for himself, realizing that kissing and making up is, apparently, not in the cards for today. "I'm not. I'm being honest and communicating with you, which is all you've ever asked me to do from the start."

"How about you try being an adult about the situation rather than throw inapplicable and out-of-context retorts in my face? That would serve more for this conversation than your idea of honesty." Louis throws the contract at the floor.

"How am I supposed to be more adult about this? I'm literally handling it exactly how you did with me." Harry raises his voice, hating that Louis makes him feel like getting angry is his only option.

"How about understanding that we're _together_?" Louis stresses. "When did that become a difficult concept for you to grasp?"

"We never agreed to that!" Harry defends. "And what happened to 'fuck the contract; you're more important to me than any contract will ever be?'"

"Will you _stop_ using past conversations to justify your inconsiderate actions?" Louis stands up.

"That was three days ago Louis! You said that to me _three days_ ago." Harry tosses the duvet to the side. "The kiss didn't mean anything! It just happened and it's over and I definitely wouldn't have done it if I realized that it would cause so many problems- but it's not like it was my fault in the first place."

Louis scoffs. "Your first problem is putting yourself in a situation where that would even _be_ an issue in the first place. You said you were at his house, alone with him, drinking, late at night? How the _fuck_ is that a logical thing to do? Oh, and I've been curious, did you know he was the one you'd be negotiating with up front? Or did he lie to you about that? Tell me Harry, who took advantage of whom?"

Harry stands up too. "You're blowing this way out of proportion!" He throws a hand into the air. "He was just being friendly and helping me out because I was lost and felt alone. Neither of us knew who the other was beforehand, I swear."

"Oh good. I'm so glad I can trust you to run off and make friends whom you make out with any time you feel lost or alone." Louis paces. "Did it ever occur to you to call _me_? I'm your Dom and your boyfriend; that's kind of the entire point of our relationship, is that I'm here for you in times like that."

"No it didn't occur to me because I was trying to do things myself, wasn't sure about the boundaries of our relationship, and didn't realize it would be a problem for me to make _friends_!" Harry feels sparks flying around the kindling fire of his temper burn hotter.

"Making ' _friends_ ' isn't the issue Harry! Having sleepovers and spending vast amounts of quality time with people that aren't _me_ is the issue!" Louis slams a hand to his chest.

"Well fuck off!" Harry snaps. "The second I found out I was doing business with him is the second it became my _job_ to spend vast amounts of quality time with him. He's investing a lot in the company and-"

"'Investing a lot in the company?' Does he realize you _hate_ your company?" Louis laughs hysterically.

" _Yes_!" Harry stresses. "He knows everything, which is why he's going to help me ruin it when I'm done running it!"

"So you had long talks about your lives together?" Louis says condescendingly. "Harry, that's called fucking _dating_. Not 'doing business' or 'having a _friend_.'"

"It wasn't _like that_ Louis!" Harry yells. "I love you and I didn't mean for anything to happen with Adrien! It just _did_ , and I'm fucking _sorry_. I can't do anything to take it back, but I wish to hell I could because I don't want things to be like this."

Louis' mouth opens, and Harry fully expects daggers to come out. It's like the words are at the tip of his tongue, when he bites it instead and stops pacing to take his index finger nail between his teeth.

The most strained eye roll Harry's ever seen shows all over Louis' face. "It's fine. I forgive you."

Harry furrows his eyebrows. "What?"

"Just don't do it again." Louis says evenly. "Please."

"The kissing thing? Obviously." Harry says, still upset over the whole thing. "I still have to talk with him and meet with him and be his friend though."

"You _don't_ have to have fancy dinners and spend your entire day sightseeing with him though." Louis argues.

"Louis, that's my _job_. I don't know why this is an issue. How come you're exempt from it?" Harry points to him. "You wine and dine people all the time. My father does it all the time. Lenny's taught me-"

"God, _Harry_! I feel like I'm talking to a fucking 10-year-old!" Louis goes back to pacing. "It's different because while we were _together_ , you fucking stayed the night at his house and kissed him! He has feelings for you, and whether you do or not for him doesn't fucking matter to me, but just know that he wants more than friendship from you."

"No he doesn't!" Harry hates, hates, that he's having to stand up for Adrien's moral character to Louis. Hates this entire fucking situation. "He knows about you Louis! He is fine with just being my friend!"

Louis' jaw drops at that. "So are you telling me he kissed you- knowing- that I was your boyfriend? Or are you telling me you've given your biggest investor the biggest blackmail on the planet to wreck your plan to say in the closet?"

"Neither!" Harry is so. Fucking. Frustrated. "He asked me if he could kiss me- I said yes. I didn't say I had a _boyfriend_ , I just said there was someone special in my life because I didn't know what else to call us. And he doesn't know it's _you_. He just knows there's someone. He specifically said that he didn't want to come between me and you."

"How fucking considerate of his ass. Because he came between us anyway. And if you were thinking with _any_ kind of logic, you would have been able to prevent the entire situation." Louis reprimands.

This is where Harry would be throwing bales of hay across his house or destroying destructible things on his ranch. Because the emotions are fucking flooding him and he can't do anything to release them. Sure, Harry will admit to a fuck up he didn't realize he had made. He will apologize all day long for that. But the fact that Louis won't let him do anything to _fix_ it...

His eyes prick with traitor tears, and that's when he decides it's probably best if he just goes because all he's fucking doing is making this situation worse for both of them.

"I'm _so_ sorry Louis." He works to keep his voice level. "I'll just-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence. He just darts out of the bedroom and shoves his suit pants over top of his boxers and hastily fixes his button-up.

"Where are you going?" Louis' voice turns from reproachful to concerned in seconds.

So much so that it makes Harry snap his head toward him as he stumbles into his shoes. "Home- I mean- work."

An unexpected smirk flashes across Louis' face for a half second before it's replaced with a look that's much less assuming. "Why don't you take the day off and spend it with me?"

Harry finds himself shaking his head before he even processes that he's answering the question. "I have to work. Black Friday is in-"

"You _just_ got back from a business trip. You can take some time off." An edge of concern threads itself back into Louis' tone.

"There's stuff only I know and can do and have to report and brief our team on from my trip. I'm sorry." Harry doesn't quite know what he's apologizing for, or why it feels funny in his mouth to say it at the moment.

Louis picks up Harry's hand. "Come back over tonight? Please?"

Harry stops to look Louis in the eyes, looking for when the hell he flipped from being an asshole to asking him over later. "Yeah, of course." He just prays there won't be any more arguing.

"I love you." Louis says a little like it's surprised him to come out of his own mouth.

And Harry feels like he's being whipped around by a bucking bronco, because he's having a really fucking hard time following Louis' emotional train of thought. Hell, he's having a hard enough time trying to deal with his _own_ onslaught of emotions.

But he says it back, because it feels nice to say. It feels like security. "I love you too."

Louis doesn't make a move to kiss him, so Harry turns his back and walks out of the penthouse at a pace much too close to jogging.

~~~ 

By the time Harry arrives at work, his head and heart are spinning. Too many things are confusing and don't add up, and last time Harry checked, his problem solving skills were getting better, not worse.

So he forgets it for the time being and throws himself into his job.

~~~

L

Louis paces and paces until he gives up pacing and calls a taxi to pick him up for work while he gets dressed.

Louis doesn't _do_ fights. He doesn't fucking do fights. Fights are for couples- granted, they _are_ \- and punishments are for subs- which Harry is too. So Louis is much more inclined to punish the fuck out of Harry tonight rather than spend the time mending together the broken bonds of trust or whatever the hell.

But it would be emotional. Louis' always sworn to himself. Don't punish if it's based off his impulses. So really, it's just like any other sub. Louis just has to suck it up and be extra doting on Harry to make him all infatuated again, then they'll be good.

Except it feels totally different with Harry. Harry's not like any other sub. And Harry is _constantly_ changing. Not changing... Growing.

The last fight Louis hated was their stupid row over music. Where in Harry had thrown up a shallow faÃ§ade, then broken down into the submissive and apologetic person he is, merely minutes later.

But this time, that didn't happen. Harry stood his ground- successfully- until he wasn't physically able to control his emotions anymore. And then he removed himself from the situation. Much like Louis does.

Louis gives himself a tight-lipped look in the mirror as he fixes his tie and stalks into the bathroom to fix his hair.

This is not good. This is not right. Harry adapts much too quickly for Louis to stay on top of his game. He doesn't fight and hasn't ever really taken the time to observe what that looks like in the context of a significant other. He didn't even realize he was fighting for the sake of _fighting_ until Harry said he wished things were different between them. Until Louis realized he has to keep Harry wanting him as much as Louis needs him.

Then it wasn't even a minute later when his possessiveness flared back up and was ripping into Harry again. And he doesn't think he likes that. His heart speaks up like a stranger from the past, telling him he doesn't like that. He definitely handled that situation wrong. Especially if he expects Harry to stay around and run Roots so that he can get his father exonerated from his prison sentence.

Louis flicks the water off his hands and glares at his reflection. Because now Adrien is apparently teaming up with Harry to ruin the company. The thought of Harry destroying Roots is tremendously stressful to Louis' life now. And Louis can't fucking have that. Nor does he even want to have to think about it. The mere image of Adrien and Harry together makes him physically sick to his stomach.

He turns sharply from the mirror and into the living room like when he was chasing Harry down and it jolts his mindset back into reality where he has to be nicer to Harry. Where he has to make Harry want to stay around.

God. How the fuck is he supposed to do that?

~~~   
  
H

After the lights are off through the building and Harry has sent off every spread sheet for the day, he sits, alone, staring at the crossword puzzle.

**Some puppets**

He squints harder. He can fucking do this. It's just problem solving. People do it all the time.

He can do this. He is proficient at his job of helping run a global multi-billion-dollar company. He can do a god damned New York Times crossword puzzle.

"Some puppets." He says aloud to his dimly lit office.

Niall is down the hall still working, but Harry knows he won't hear him.

"Not all puppets. Just some." Harry clarifies. "Some puppets. Sometimes I feel like a puppet." He rolls his eyes to himself.

Sometimes he feels like a puppet for the company. All the photoshoots and the fake image the media has of him. Sometimes he feels like a puppet.

He doesn't feel like a puppet with Louis though. He has- when he was the subject of humiliation. But he hasn't lately. He doesn't know how he feels about that.

It was- well, really- it was all Louis. It was Louis to make him feel humiliated all along. It was Louis to break his heart. It was Louis who repaired it all. It was Louis who has formed Harry into what he is becoming today.

He grimaces at the crossword puzzle. That's the problem too. Harry doesn't- _hasn't_ \- recognized this person he's grown into. Sometimes he loves the confidence and sometimes he resents himself for it. It's comfortable and uncomfortable. It's new, but it feels like it's been in there all along. He wonders if Louis taught it to him or simply brought it out in him.

But while Harry's been molding into a businessman, he's found that he's never understood Louis more. He's also found that he's never understood Louis less.

He gets it now. Kind of. Almost. He's been a part of this world for three months now and gets the mechanics behind the machine that is Wall Street. Aside from that, he has an insight to Louis' past. What he still doesn't get is Louis' inconsistent behavior. The morals, habits, and values that Louis lives by, he seems to be betraying at every corner.

From giving up contracts to giving up on love, Louis seems to keep changing his mind on what's most important to him. One day it's his business, and the next it's Harry.

Objectively, looking back on their fight, Louis' arguments were full of hypocrisy. From feeling exempt to the own rules he's set in place, to treating Harry like he didn't understand them in the first place.

Inconsistency.

Inconsistency equals manipulation, and Harry fights back that sick feeling in his stomach again that makes his instinct and desires battle.

But it was too real. The things Louis said to him before France. The way he reacted toward the whole Adrien thing. Louis cares. He cares a _lot_ , or he wouldn't have fought so hard.

But maybe he just cares for himself. Maybe he's just playing with Harry like some sort of sock puppet with googly eyes that fall off from cheap Elmer's glue after-

Harry knocks over his penguin paper weight while scrambling to pick up his pen and scribble in the four small crossword boxes.

**Socks**

~~~

 

**/Sneak peek for next update/**

"So what do you want from me?" Louis says. He thinks it maybe came out a little forced and cold, but hey, he has to give himself some credit. This is all new to him.

"Can we just maybe go back to being normal where I'm your sub and you're my Dom? Or at least our version of it?" Harry asks.

"Of course." After agreeing, Louis wonders why he feels the least dominant he's ever felt. 

~~~

 


	47. Chapter 47

 

  
~~~

L

Louis steps out of his post-work out shower to a text from Harry.  He changes into his robe then makes his way to his front door.

When he opens it, Harry is sitting to the side with his arms hanging over his knees.

"How long have you been waiting?"  Louis asks.

Harry shrugs.  "Maybe 10 minutes."

"You can come in if I don't answer."  Louis reassures.

Harry shakes his head a little to himself, then stands up.  "I don't know what to do."

"About what?"  Louis stands to the side so Harry can come in.

"I mean in general.  With you."  Harry takes off his shoes.  "You keep sending me mixed messages."

Louis hates this part of relationships.  Hates it.  This is why he's a better Dom than boyfriend.  "You're right.  I'm sorry.  Let's talk about it."

Harry nods as he follows Louis to the couch and they both sit down.

"What are we?"  Harry looks up to Louis.

"What would you like us to be?"  Louis responds diplomatically.

"I don't know."  He looks down at his lap.  "I liked what we were before, but I hate feeling like I'm messing up all the time.  And I feel like I am now too."

"What did you like?"  Louis decides to focus on that for now.  It will give him a roadmap of how to keep Harry interested.

"Well, I do like some punishments.  They're really helpful and... cleansing."  Harry twiddles his thumbs together.  "You make me feel empowered and I like that too."

Louis' head nods like his bones are a little rusty.

"I just don't like when you're inconsistent.  It's confusing and frustrating."  Harry says.

Louis feels like this conversation is different than any one they've had before.  Like for the first time, Harry isn't just desperately throwing himself on the floor to please Louis. 

"I can see why you'd feel that way."  Because really, that's due to them not following the damn contract from the beginning.  If it were any other relationship, this conversation wouldn't be happening.  "How can I be more consistent?"

"I dunno just like, when we're talking, I feel like I'm always saying the wrong thing even if it's in the same context of how you've said it before.  I feel like I never get to be right."  Harry says unsurely.

Louis' insides want to take off like ignited rocket fuel.  Control.  He's always had it before.  Harry is no exception to it. 

He keeps his voice level.  "So you want to be right and win arguments?  You feel that it's inconsistent for me to always be right?"

Harry huffs.  "No, see, you do this thing and I don't know what it is. But you're doing it right now and it makes it so I'm always in the wrong."

"I'm just repeating back to you what you said to me to make sure I understand correctly."  Louis says.

"Well yes, but that's not how I meant it."  Harry sounds exasperated.

"Say what you mean and mean what you say Harry."  Louis commands.  "We've been through this.  Think before you speak."

There's a pause and a calculated breath.  "I feel like you treat me unfairly.  I feel like we should both be held to the same rules."

"So you're saying you'd like to punish me for my kiss with Billie Joe?"  Louis amuses himself.  He's hilarious.

Harry's horrified face looks terribly taken off guard by his statement.  "No!  No.  I'm just saying I didn't have the right to get mad at you about it so I feel like you should treat me the same."

Louis nods to himself once.  "Harry.  Why did you message me and ask for a scene when you got home?"

Harry's mouth opens for a half second before he answers.  "Because I felt out of control and frustrated and guilty."

"You felt guilty."  Louis reaffirms.  "I don't feel guilty about my actions.  You felt guilt, Harry.  You need someone to help you take that away because you don't know how to do it yourself.  You felt out of control and needed someone else to give it to you.  You felt frustrated because you don't know how to balance this new life you're in.  That's why  _you_  are a sub and  _I_  am a Dom.  I give you that control.  I give you the tools to get over your guilt.  I give you balance and homeostasis.  It's my job.  You need me for that.  Do you know what that means?"

Harry shakes his head as he looks very concentrated with taking in this fire-hosed information.

"It means we  _don't_  play by the same rules.  It means our roles in this relationship are completely different.  It means what's fair isn't apples to apples.  Do you understand?"  Louis asks genuinely.

Harry buries his face in his hands.  "Yeah... yeah it does."

"So what do you want Harry?"  Louis asks, completely open ended.

"It's not that simple."  Harry looks up at him, shaking his head.

"What.  Do you want?"  Louis pushes.  "What's the solution to all of this in your mind?"

"I just want to feel loved and important!"  Harry raises his voice as he stands up.

Louis' eyebrows lift as the silence sets in.  He's proud of Harry for his honesty.  He really is.  Also, this makes it legions easier for Louis.  This was a great idea.  Conversation is good.

He picks up Harry's hands.  "That's all you had to say in the first place."

"I didn't know that's what I was trying to say."  Harry breathes out.

Louis just nods once. "How can I make you feel loved and important then?"

"I... don't know."  Harry itches his nose, flame from his temper burning out.

"Sit down."  Louis says. 

Harry obeys.

"So what do you want from me?"  Louis says.  He thinks it maybe came out a little forced and cold, but hey, he has to give himself some credit.  This is all new to him.

"Can we just maybe go back to being normal where I'm your sub and you're my Dom?  Or at least our version of it?"  Harry asks.

"Of course."  After agreeing, Louis wonders why he feels the least dominant he's ever felt. 

"So, do you remember when we were signing all the documents in front of the lawyer and my father and stuff?"  Harry twiddles his thumbs.

"Yes."  Louis remembers very fondly.  Harry reveled in the public humiliation and Desmond was mortified by it.

"I liked that."  He says softly.

Louis blinks.  "You liked the public humiliation... and you want to experience more of it?"

Harry bites his bottom lip and nods.  "Yes please."

"More like the industry mixer or like on Twitter?"  Louis starts scheming for his next move.

"Well there's the Thanksgiving party my father is making me go to tomorrow..." Harry glances up at Louis from the corner of his eyes.

Louis grins.  "Want me to crash your party and embarrass you in front of everyone baby?"

Harry's cheeks flare up and he can't help but crack a smile too.  He nods.

Louis already has half a dozen ideas.  "It's going to be different than the other times, you understand that right?  The point isn't to repeat the same thing over and over.  The point is to have you truly feel humiliated."

"I trust you."  Harry says with confidence.

Louis tries not to grimace at that considering he doesn't return the sentiment.  "Alright.  Game on then."

~~~

L

Harry stands in front of 728 people wearing an anal hook attached to a collar.

"I uh-" Harry slips an index finger into the stiff-white collar that covers up the leather one underneath.  "I'm honored to have this opportunity..."

Desmond looks livid from the side of the stage.  He's scanning the crowd to find the face that he knows is responsible for Harry's floundering.

"To talk to you guys about, um, thankful...ness-" Harry goes bright red.

"What the fuck did you do to him?"  Niall asks only quietly enough for Louis to hear, looking straightforward at the podium.

"The- uh, this company is-" Harry brushes a sweaty lock of hair out of his face.  Louis can see his skin glisten from here.

A Mexican man is waving what looks like last-second-made cue cards at the front of the standing audience.  Harry's face darts toward them like flotation rafts on the Titanic.

As Harry's neck moves, so does the anal hook attached by a chain.  He squeaks into the microphone as his face deepens from crimson to carmine.

Louis smirks.

"Company is great.  I'm glad to work here."  Harry says stiffly into the microphone.

Someone coughs and the sound echoes through the hotel ballroom.

"Fuck."  Niall puts his head in his hand.

"I just am glad- 'cause- I uh..." Harry's hand slowly creeps inside the back of his crisp suit.  "'Cause I know lots of you guys."

If Louis was a less composed person, he'd have to bite his knuckle to keep from laughing at the sparks of satisfaction that crackle up and down his spine.

"And you guys are great."  Harry nods to himself with doe eyes as his shaky hands slide to grasp the corners of the podium.

A person starts a clap, then is shushed by a small group of others.

"Yeah, I... I'd be nothing if it weren't for y'all-" Harry clears his throat, "I mean, you guys- um, employees-"

A paparazzi camera flashes, and that's when Desmond stands up and starts making his way to the center stage.  Harry visibly keeps from moving his head, but the cringe is written on his face.

"I used to be a farmer."  Harry gains momentum.  "I farmed cows."

Desmond's lips purse together as he strides forward and wraps an arm around Harry's shoulder.  This time the cringe is a physical one and Louis wants to punch Desmond in the throat.

A false jovial laugh comes from his mouth.  "What Harry  _really_ -"

Harry cuts him off with a voice that's flavored with confidence.  "What I really mean to say is that I used to be a farmer and I lived on a ranch in Kentucky."

Desmond grits his teeth into a smile, but the whisper meant for Harry carries through the microphone.  "Harry, sit down."

Harry's face methodically turns to face him and Louis wonders how it's shifting the beaded hook.  "I'm not done."  He faces the crowd again.  "I know what hard work looks like.  And y'all are hard workers.  You'd all fit right in at the ranch because you know how to work your asses off."

Someone from the crowd lets out a whoop.

"I'm grateful that I work with y'all and will soon be considered your leader.  I'm blessed to have the opportunity to lead such determined people."  Harry shrugs Desmond's arm from off his shoulder. 

"You've worked for my father for a long time, and lotsa people might say you'll be working for me soon, but that's not true.  Y'all are working for yourselves."  Harry leans in toward the podium.  "You're the ones that run this company and make stuff happen.  I just sign a bunch of papers that Niall tells me to." 

"Dear God."  Niall mutters under his breath while the crowd laughs.

Louis beams.  This is going about 10 times better than he could have ever imagined.

"Thanksgiving is about spending it with those you love.  So that's why y'all can have tomorrow off to be with your families, and I'll pay for the late notice plane tickets if you guys want 'em."  Harry says triumphantly.

Desmond's eyes look like they might bug out of their sockets as the cheers echo off the wooden floor.

"Happy Thanksgiving and I'm grateful for y'all.  Eat all the food, but I think someone spiked the punch again, so don't drink that."  Harry looks like he's suddenly unsure of why everyone laughed at his statement.

Harry looks from side to side before decidedly dismissing himself and waddling off the makeshift stage.  The employees of Roots cheer loudly for Harry, and Desmond stares at Harry's exit, then turns around to leave the stage himself.

Louis shoots Niall a sly look before darting and weaving his way through the crowd to meet Harry in the bathroom as they previously agreed.  He catches Harry right as he's about to open the bathroom door.

Louis can't help but smile at his back.  "That was certainly unexpected."

Harry's body contorts to twist around and compensate for the contraption running up his back.  "Louis!"  He squeaks in relief.

Louis turns to make sure no one follows them, then escorts Harry into the carpeted sitting area and locks the door behind them.

They're standing next to each other, and aside from Harry looking terribly uncomfortable, they take a moment to look at each other.  Louis doesn't know why Harry looks a little different to him.  He wonders if he looks different to Harry.

"Did I do good?"  Harry's eyes search Louis' for approval.

"You did stunningly stellar.  I'm so proud of you baby."  And Louis really is.

Then Harry kind of just falls into Louis' body a little bit and Louis wraps his arms around him in a hug.  He feels more than hears the sigh of relief against his chest. 

Louis instinctively rubs up and down the back of Harry's suit coat.  "You ready to take this off?"

"I don't have to wear it all night?"  Harry carefully cranes his neck upward to look at Louis.

"Would you like to?"  Louis leaves the option open for him.

But the moment Louis asks it, he sees it on Harry's face.  The truth of it saying that he doesn't want to.  Louis wonders if he'll honor that.

Harry's mouth gapes open a little as he contemplates the answer.  "I... want to please you.  But it's very uncomfortable."

His earlier pride comes back again at Harry's progress.  He looks at Harry, still trying to find the change.

"Let's get you out of it then.  You rose above my expectations already.  So fucking fantastic."  Louis rewards him with a kiss to the forehead, then turns him around.

Harry complies instantly and shimmies out of his jacket.  Louis lays it across the armchair, then reaches around to unbutton Harry's shirt for him.

After it's off, then the belt is unbuckled and suit pants are around his ankles, and then Harry is standing in his underwear and the anal hook-collar contraption is shown off in all it's glory.

Louis takes a moment to admire how Harry looks in it.  He looks like 100 percent his.  He looks bound to Louis.  Harry's every move was influenced by the anal hook Louis put in and it was impossible for his mind to stray from being controlled by Louis for even a second. 

Louis definitely likes how that looks.

He gently unbuckles the collar from Harry's neck though, then slowly pulls out the anal hook.  Harry whimpers as it exits his body and Louis gives him a kiss to the shoulder blade.

Louis washes it out in the sink, dries it off, then slings it in the back of his suit pants to sneak it out to his car as Harry redresses himself.  After all, he can only hang around the Roots party for so long before someone recognizes him... even with his hair down.

"Wait, Louis."  Harry says softly.

Louis pauses before grabbing the lock on the door.  "Yes baby?"

"Can I touch your hair?"  Harry asks.

Louis smiles at the innocence of the question.  "Of course."

Harry's step toward him is neither tentative nor confident.  The way he slides his hands into his hair is much the same.  Harry thumbs through it softly as if he were petting a baby chick.  Louis doesn't think he's ever been touched so softly.

"I like it down."  Harry grins like it's a secret.

"Do you now?"  Louis refrains from being self-conscious about how naive he looks when his hair is down.  The bathroom mirror confirms his insecurity.  Even with a Tom Ford suit on, he looks like a young man in his late teens or early twenties lost in life and trying to dress the part of a wealthy CEO.

"Yeah.  Reminds me of the ginger."  Harry's eyes flick to the ground as his cheeks pink up.

Louis furrows his eyebrows before remembering the ginger incident.  It was right before he left Harry alone to go see American Idiot with Niall.

The memory is like a small dagger to his gut, and he wonders how he could have been so fucking stupid to leave his sub without proper aftercare.  He tries to give himself some credit because he was out of practice, but he was only out of practice because he had been an increasingly shitty Dom to those prior to Harry. 

There was never enough time.  His company always had things going.  It was right after a stock drop and some heavy slander by a world-famous boy band who had been an endorser of Metal Core for years.  Louis remembers getting 10 total hours of sleep one week.  There was a lot of cocaine ingested. 

Too much cocaine, and his sub was left completely forgotten for 3 days before he showed up at Louis' office.  Luckily there wasn't a scene that had taken place recently before, so it was just Louis having to own up to being a bad partner in their arrangement.  He remembers that break up going much more like a lay off because it happened in his office, and his sub had left storming.

Louis had too much work to mind.

"Are you okay?"  Harry withdraws his hands.

"Yes kitten."  Louis tries to forget that he's missing a conference call tonight to be here with Harry.  "You should probably get back to your party."

Harry nods like it's become a resigned expectation for his life.  Louis wonders if he's the only person on the planet who is downtrodden about partying being a part of his job description.

Louis gives him a quick peck to the lips that changes Harry's demeanor to something akin to being told he can go shovel manure for the rest of the night instead of politic employees.

Louis tries not to squint at himself or wonder what that should mean to him.

Harry reaches to open the door and Louis steps back into the ballroom.  There's a movement from the corner of his eye, and when he turns to get a clearer view, he sees Desmond furiously stalking toward them.

Desmond's already yelling before he even gets to them.  "What the  _hell_  were you thinking Harry?!  Companies can't just  _shut down_  the day before the largest day of the fucking year because you impulsively decide to take an executive action over 728 people!"

Louis instinctively steps in front of Harry and Desmond acts like he isn't even there as he shoves him to the side and pins Harry against the wall. 

Louis has the full intention of beating Desmond within an inch of his life, but Harry's already sprung into action and has Desmond pinned with his chest and face to the wall and an arm upturned behind his back.

The surrender is on Desmond's face at the same moment Harry releases him like a tied-up calf.  Harry takes a step back and Desmond whips around to face Harry with something that looks a whole lot like fear.

"Don't touch me ever again."  Harry says like a silent stone.

Louis doesn't move from his spot.  He just watches as the senior and junior Styles stare at each other face-to-face.  Between Harry looking like he isn't to be fucked with, and Desmond looking like a cornered lamb, Louis can- for the first time- see the resemblance between the two.

"I'm not taking back my decision and I'll handle the consequences.  I'm gonna go talk to people about their families now."  Harry turns without further acknowledgement to Desmond or Louis.

Louis blinks himself back into catching up with what the hell just happened.

Harry stood up for himself. 

Louis bubbles with pride at that thought.  In fact, he's been feeling that all night for Harry.  The way he looked scared shitless, yet trusting when Louis put the anal hook in him before he went out on stage.  The way he didn't run away or back down from the challenge.  The way he kept bumbling on, then took charge of his platform when Desmond tried interrupting.  The way he made a decision for the good of his company because it was his right as a leader to do so.  The way he's followed through on everything tonight.

Harry looks a lot different to Louis tonight because Louis, for the first time, realizes he respects him.

"I suppose you'll want another hit at me then?"  Desmond breaks Louis from his reverie.

"No."  Louis says blankly.  "No.  Have a happy Thanksgiving."

~~~

 


	48. Authors Note (This was originally posted to Wattpad in Nov. 2016)

Hello my succubi! It's been a minute :)

I keep my personal life off of Wattpad because I don't believe in dumping my life problems on you lovely readers just because you're an audience. That being said, I think it's time for me to share a bit more about myself with you beautiful people.

So hey there! I'm Dannie Ybarra :) I'm 24 years old. I live in Salt Lake City, Utah. My sister  @xKireyy dragged me into the fandom and introduced me to writing. [LouisTwinklinson](https://www.wattpad.com/user/LouisTwinklinson) thought I had potential and opened doors that would not have opened otherwise. I've only ever met 3 people in the Larry fandom who are older than me.

I grew up very wealthy in a family of 7 in California and moved to Utah at 10. I grew up Mormon (a cult-ish subset of Christianity haha). I started my own chocolate fountain business when I was 10. I worked that until I was 15, at which time I got my first official job at Quiznos Subs. That year was 2008. My life changed when the stock market and real estate market crashed. My dad lost everything and my family plummeted into debt. We started living off of welfare programs and had incredible support from our church. I started working 3 jobs to pay rent and got married at 18 because I wanted to remove myself as a financial burden from my family.

I got divorced 3 months later, graduated high school, and continued with cosmetology school because it was cheaper than trying to go to traditional college. Fun fact: minimum wage in Utah is $7.25 an hour. Going to school full time and working two full time jobs is exhausting. So; toward the end of college when funds became tight, I chose to start escorting.

Fast forward to 20 years old and I meet and marry my second husband Ryan. My beloved Ryan who was as devoted to the church as I was, and was (is) attracted to men. My family is in a better financial situation and I'm working in a salon. I make enough money to get myself on my feet and my husband through school. We travel the world. We buy a condo and he gets a job that pays 70k a year. I choose to work part time at my new salon because I don't HAVE to work for the first time in my life. What did I do with all my free time?

I wrote.

I wrote Fading Zen about the crippling depression I faced heavily as a teenager and occasionally still today.

Finding Zen about the ups and downs of pulling yourself out of it and letting people who love you help you.

I wrote Purple Reign about the feeling of helplessness when you've let yourself have a brief moment of happiness, then the universe seems to rip everything dear to you away from your grasp. Red Reign is being written to follow up on how we adapt to those challenges.

I wrote Cat and Mouse to attempt to scratch the surface of what it's like being married to someone that you love with all your heart, but are not in love with.

The Forgotten Habitat because I believe in simplistic 'happy endings' as long as they are balanced with the authenticity of the pain and grieving that life allows us to experience. I believe that the only times we experience happiness are when we LET ourselves be happy.

Monopolize Me is being written to showcase the radical changes that happen in our lives and how they shape our character and our future.

Dance With the Devil is in the works and will explore the immense repression and damage that religion can inflict.

Another book is also in the works. While more whimsical, (Louis will be a mermaid), it will have some obviously heavy and severely depressing undertones that I'm apparently notorious for.

I wrote and will continue to write.

I, however, took a break from writing last March when Ryan and I separated after 3 years and I stopped going to church. I needed mass amounts of time to go through the grieving process. I predictably fucked up my life quite successfully through copious amounts of drinking, extreme drug use, and sex (my therapist and parents were very unhappy with me lol). I continued to update everything that I had pre-written, but when I caught up with where I was at, the updates stopped.

I started pulling myself together in December and have made some progressive changes in my life. I stopped spending money I didn't have. I started going to the gym again. I quit the very comfortable job I had had for the last year and got a position at my dream salon. I moved from god-forsaken Provo into Salt Lake City where I've wanted to be living for the last 5 years. I became exclusive with the one man who treated me right and expected me to treat him with equal respect and stopped messing around with fuck boys (and girls). I opened myself up to my spiritual (not religious) beliefs and have become grounded in those.

I'm letting myself be happy. A lesson I learned from The Forgotten Habitat Louis- which it's weird af by the way when you re-read your books and take your own characters advice.

As it were, we have gone several months now without an update or any word from me. I want you to know it's not because I'm 'going on hiatus'; I'm not stressed or contemplating suicide or in the hospital. I have sincerely appreciated the messages and tweets of concern. However, I'm just working on adulting. It's not any more complicated than that. I'm learning balance. Like how you 13 year olds are managing Middle School and social lives and homework. Like you 16 year olds in high school who are getting your hearts broken and trying to pass all of your classes. Like you 19 year olds who are trying to navigate college, choose your career, and change the oil on your car. Like you 22 year olds who are taking on more responsibility than you ever imagined you could handle with graduation and paying bills and social life- what? Haha.

I'm doing the same thing as all of you, but on my own level. We're all at different levels and come from different walks of life. Rich, poor, educated, talented, hard workers, addicts, mental illnesses, race, religion, gender/sexual orientation, political views. We face all of those issues with ourselves or those around us at different times in our lives. Struggles and differences aside, the thing we all can relate with each other at one of the base levels that makes us human- which I believe to be our ability to love.

I love you guys because I know that even though our life stories aren't the same, I respect the path that you have walked and will continue to journey on. I'm just here to share my life experiences with you guys through my stories. I cannot believe something that started out as me venting onto my computer turned into what it has today. I've met some of you and you are incredible humans. I've become best friends with some of you. I've laughed and cried and taken and given advice to some of you. You guys have made my day through your comments on my stories more than you will ever understand.

I am so passionate about writing. It's not something I see myself giving up. I have so many more stories to tell and a lot more life to live to write even more stories about. I kindly ask for your patience and respect as I ease myself back into writing. It's been almost a year since I've opened up my Word document for Monopolize Me and the other stories I'm working on. I do not do things by halves. When I upload my work to Wattpad, I am presenting you with the very best version and quality of a chapter that I can manage for that time. I typically edit everything twice and send it off to my lovely executive producer [LowQualityLarry](https://www.wattpad.com/user/LowQualityLarry)  for feedback. I have spent hundreds and hundreds of hours on research about Wall Street, platypodes, medieval customs, culture, and religions all for the sake of my work. I have lived, breathed, cried, and bled because of my writing and it means the world to me. Please do not mistake me for a conveyer belt mass producer of overused plots and cliche characters. The work I give to you is everything I can make it and I will not choose to update unless I feel my work is up to the standards I hold it to. Please respect that :)

So going forward: My room is a hot mess with unpacking (this got typed on my phone because I have no clue where my computer is). I'm rebuilding my clientele at my new salon. I'm building a very strong relationship with my boyfriend. I'm taking continuing education classes outside of work hours because I take my career seriously. I will be picking up a second and third job as a bartender and Lyft driver to offset the lovely costs of the consequences of my financial immaturity. And finally, I will begin to write again.

I don't have an update schedule and I won't until I feel confident that I can adhere to it at least 98% haha. But you will be getting updates from time to time because I value you guys and know that you value my work.

So there's me. Very real and unadulterated. Thank you for listening and for letting Wattpad be a safe space for myself and others to share who they truly are.

Now, if you read through all of that, comment 'Dannie is a basic bitch' and then give yourself a hug because I can't be there to physically hug you <3 :)

I appreciate y'all so much and think you're incredible. Until next update, be safe, love yourself, and eat some chocolate!

Tons and tons of love!

-Dannie 


	49. Chapter 48

H

**Farmer f*cks up Roots!**

**Holiday Hell for High Tech!**

**Rookie Mistake = Massive Setbacks**

**Harry hands Roots to the Dogs!**

**"Harry's making this too easy." -L. Tomlinson**

Harry rolls his eyes at the tabloid covers and fake quotes from his boyfriend.  With Thanksgiving behind him, he's felt restless.

He's seen the change in himself as he grows more and more competent with running the company.  He sees how people look up to him and gravitate toward him in a way that they didn't used to.  He sees how Niall doesn't have to fix as many of his fuck ups and tangibly feels them developing as a team. He finds himself checking his phone when he's not at work to see how the stocks are doing, what the media is saying, if the R&D department has made any breakthroughs, and if Wolfconn is on schedule for shipping their new prototypes overseas.

And with all that, he still finds time to wonder how things are in Kentucky.  He misses all the leftover turkey jerky from the Annual Thanksgiving Turkey hunts.  He misses his Bluegrass Hills and the crisp, clean air as the snow starts to set in.  He misses the way the cows fatten up and the city decelerates down to the pace of the sluggishly rising sun.  He misses the sound of the crickets and chickens at dusk.  He misses his quiet isolated pastures surrounded by the forests.

His fingers dig deeper into his temples as he stares dejectedly at the profitability model.  As far as Roots Inc. goes... he may have made the wrong call with giving all his employees Thanksgiving off.  No.  He  _definitely_  made the wrong call as far as the company is concerned.  He made the  _right_  call as far as the people are concerned because morale has been stellar.  But Harry has been learning that numbers don't lie.  So, despite the office attitude, he still has to face the majority share holders in a meeting this afternoon and explain why the model reflects poorly on the last couple weeks.

He really wishes he could please everybody.  In an ideal world, making people happy always will end with a positive result; not a double-edged sword scenario.

He really wishes he were in Kentucky.

His email alert sounds and he thanks all the higher powers for the temporary distraction.  Except, his heart jumps to his throat when he sees the sender.

 **From: adpierre@chauvet.fr**    
 **Date: December 13, 2016 at 1:12 PM**  
 **Subject: Bonjour!**  
 **To: hstyles@roots.com**

**Harry,**

**J'espère que vous allez bien et que vous avez passé de bonnes vacances!  How are things back in New York?  I have caught up with you only through social media and the tabloids- which we both know are not reliable sources of information haha.  The seasons are changing in France and I cannot help but think how things must be changing in New York for you.  I want to know how it is similar and different to your home?**

**Do you also yet have plans for New Years?  As for me, I believe I will be visiting New York again next month after spending the holidays with my mother.  I have paperwork to finalize with your father's company as well as other meetings to attend to.  Oh, the joys of being a businessman.**

**I do wish the best for you during this busy time!  May your work be as fruitful as your special someone you have at home.**

**_À bientôt !_ **

**_"Friendly,"_ **

**_Adrien ;)_ **

Harry definitely stares at the email for too long and wonders if he's been back in America for too long or if it was just easier to totally understand Adrien in person. 

He firstly plugs all the French phrases into Google translate to find out that he opens with a pleasantry and ends with something equivalent to 'see you soon.'  The 'friendly' part though... that's even in English- and, Harry thinks it's an inside joke he's missed out on- but he still doesn't understand it.

The winky face just.

Harry stares at the door to his office because he's not even sure what it means.

With that, he stands up to push his chair in and thinks he'll let himself be a little early to that meeting with the shareholders.

~~~

L

With Thanksgiving behind them, Louis has felt restless. 

He watched Zayn run his company day by day and slayed every second of Black Friday and the week proceeding it. 

And now they're into December and Louis has to do... something.

Harry's seemed cautiously confident both in business and when he's been over to Louis' since the Thanksgiving party. Louis almost feels like he has to knock him down a rung... in the most loving and Dominant way possible. 

Except he can't decide if he wants to do it publicly or privately... and if privately he wants to push him down from a public standpoint or publicly he wants to push him down from a private standpoint.

Either would be effective.

Or he could just toss both of those and make him do something nice and degrading. 

Well- degrading to the average human.  Relationship building to the person in the BDSM community.  See, last time Louis tried to have a conversation to a normal person about how he made his boyfriend kneel on uncooked rice for seven minutes on his wooden kitchen floor, then pick it up with his tongue it just... the conversation just did not go well.

Granted, he was pretty strung out on a long night of cocaine in some club in L.A. and thought the average dude was chill.  Apparently it was not the right judgement call. 

Louis has since learned to just keep any BDSM related punishments to himself and those whom also actively participate in the culture.

Blood In The Cut sears through his phone speakers to alert him that his sister is calling.

"Hey Fiz."  Louis kicks his feet onto his desk.  He looks out the window pane where the rain paves patterns on the glass.

"Lou- I..." Her voice cracks.  "Are you at work?"

Louis already doesn't like the sound of any of this.  "I am.  Do you need a taxi here?"

"I'm outside the building."  She says.

Louis' lips purse together as his gut wrenches.  This is not good.  "Have Zayn escort you up."

"Kay."  She whispers, then hangs up.

~~~

H

Harry just got a new asshole ripped open by his father and the share holders.  It doesn't really bother him.  He doesn't give a shit anyway.  It's not like his father's words have ever meant shit to Harry.  And add to that a dozen multi-millionaires with stupid opinions and power trips, and it  _really_  doesn't mean shit to Harry.

Especially the way they look and speak to him like he's incompetent.  Harry knows he doesn't have a degree and didn't graduate high school and hasn't been in the industry for even half a year, but he followed everything they were saying.  In fact, he had to correct one of the men on his information regarding their international sales.  Harry bets if he were to put any one of those guys on his ranch that they'd be standing there with a finger up their noses and not know how to tell a post driver from a baler.

He sighs as the rain hits the window and plops into his office chair.  When his hand bumps the desk, his computer screen brightens up again and he stares at the email he had pushed from his mind.

He wonders if it would be bad to respond back.  Would Louis be mad?  Would he care?  Isn't it kind of business?  It would be so rude if Harry were to just ignore it, wouldn't it?  Will Niall end up seeing the email?  Is it okay that Harry is friends with Adrien?

He pushes the base of his palms to his brow bones and misses when life wasn't so complicated.  He misses Douglas being an dick and misses Henrietta even though she pecked him all the time.  Harry misses when he ran his ranch and was only responsible to himself.  He misses seeing the fruits of his labors and birthing baby calves.

 **From: hstyles@roots.com**    
 **Date: December 13, 2016 at 3:45 PM**  
 **Subject: Re: Bonjour!**  
 **To: adpierre@chauvet.fr**

**New York is nothing new.  Things have just been busy with the holidays.  What's the weather like in Paris this time of year? It's raining here now, but it's snowed a couple times.  It's super windy all the time too.  It feels colder all the time because the buildings always cast huge shadows so it feels like there's never sun. Niall bought me a "really nice trench coat" but it's not even half as warm as my Carhartt coveralls.**

**I don't have plans for New Years. When are you going to be in New York? Spending time with your family sounds nice.  I might do that too.**

Harry stops and lets his fingers click absentmindedly against the keyboard for a minute.

He deletes the last sentence.

**I'm going back to Kentucky for Christmas too.  I'll send you a picture of Carly.**

**It was good to hear from you and I hope you have a good week.**

**Sincerely, Harry**

**PS, what did you mean by "friendly"?**

Harry sends it, closes the tab, and books a flight to Kentucky for next week.

~~~

L

Louis paces back and forth in front of his sister.  "What the  _fuck_  did you think you were  _doing_?!"  He couldn't begin to fathom why a 14-year-old would even risk having unprotected sex.

"Louis!  I  _told_  you the condom broke!  We didn't  _know_!"  She desperately tries to convince her brother that it was an accident. 

Louis glowers at her with the fury of a hurricane and screams so loudly that he's sure Harry will hear him from blocks away.  "Are you  _trying_  to be like mom?!"

"Louis,  _no_!"  Felicite bursts into tears, but Louis cuts her off again anyway.

"Damn well looks like it!"  Louis rages.  "The hell do you think you're going to do with it?  They won't let you keep it!  You're dooming the child to a life in foster care!  Make the adult decision and-" 

"I'm  _not_  getting rid of it!"  She screams and covers her abdomen protectively.

" _Who_  is going to take care of it then?"  Louis says with daggers in his voice.

Felicite drops to her knees and wraps her arms around Louis' shins, looking up at him with a red face and water pouring from her eyes like a rainstorm.  "Louis, please- you  _have_  to-"

"I'm not taking care of your mistake."  He says icily quiet.

"Lou  _you_  raised  _me_!  You're a good father!   _Please_  adopt my baby- just for four years-" She grips into his suit pants.

"Felicite.  No."  He stares at the wall in front of him.

" _Louis_!  Please- if there's only one thing you do for me for the rest of my life-" she chokes on a sob, " _please_  just do this!  You don't even have to take care of it.  I'll keep it with me and Cayden-"

"You think I would  _adopt a child_  and then let it go to the  _shack_  you and your drug-selling boyfriend live in?  What kind of  _life_  is that  _Felicite_?!  You may as well ship the baby into prison because the baby has a better chance being raised by  _mom_."  Louis spits out.

"That's why  _you_  have to adopt it!"  She implores.  "You  _have_  to do this Louis!  My baby doesn't have any other choice!" 

"I  _can't_  Felicite!  I have Harry and I have Metal Core and that's already more than I can handle right now!"  Louis yanks her upright again.  "And don't  _ever_  beg on your knees again."

"I'll stay on my knees all day to plead for you to do this for me."  She says, not backing down.  "You can have Harry help you-"

Louis barks out in laughter.  "This child is no more Harry's responsibility than it is mine."

Felicite shakes her head.  "You've always wanted kids Lou-"

Louis slaps her across the face.  "Don't you  _dare_  try and make this about me.  My 14-year-old sister is knocked up and you  _think_  I should be thrilled to have her bastard son shoved into my arms?  You  _think_  that's any way to bring a life into this world?"

"I'm not getting rid of it."  Her face sets in stone, but tears still freely run down her cheeks.  "And next time you hit me, I won't be so kind."

"Get the fuck out of my office."  Louis points to the door.

"Already gone."  She gives him a look of disgust and continues sobbing on her way out the door.

Louis collapses into his office chair, clenching his teeth and ripping at his quiff until he feels some hairs pull out.  He takes a minute to calm himself, then texts Zayn to mock up a four-year financial plan for caring for a child.

His phone lights up with a text from Niall.  He glances at the clock, wondering what the hell he wants, then opens the message.

**Did you know Harry is going to Kentucky next week?**

~~~

 


	50. Chapter 49

 

~~~

 

H

Harry's room is a mess.  All of the boots have been unearthed and the bandanas are scattered across his bed like they're making their debut on a bandana commercial.  Reba McEntire echoes through the room like she's as excited to go back to Kentucky as Harry is and there's exactly two New York Times crossword puzzles that have been completed and two that haven't.  He's able to get them done in less than a week now.

He shoves his Wranglers into the fancy navy blue suitcase Louis bought for him last week for 'future business trips' as if Harry plans to ever leave the country again.  Hah.  But he'll use it for his trip back home.

The purple tee-shirt he got for free at the Fourth of July parade seven years ago makes an appearance and he excitedly puts it on top of his four white tee's he's already packed and-

"So you're going to Kentucky?"  The voice icily cuts through Reba singing about how the urge to break loose is just too strong.

Harry stubs his toe on his bed frame with how fast he whips around at hearing Louis' voice.  "Louis!"  He's standing in his blue suit, tan trench coat, navy blue-white polka dotted scarf, and leaned against Harry's door frame with the shitty Astro-Turf contrasting against his cognac Lobbs. 

Louis doesn't blink.  "When the fuck did you think it would be pertinent to share this information with me?"

Harry's stomach drops.  He fucked up on so many levels.  Dear God he's fucked up.  How the hell did he forget to tell Louis?  Why the fuck didn't he think to just shoot him a text or- or ask him permission to go?  Oh god- Harry probably should have asked permission for going to Kentucky.  Is that in their contract?  Fuck.  Wait... how does Louis know about Kentucky in the first place?  Like, he had a feeling Louis was tracking all of his emails but-

Fuck.

Does Louis know about him emailing Adrien too? 

Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.

"Speak."  Louis commands.

"I- I-" Harry grasps for anything that will make sense.  "I'm so sorry!"

"Did I ask for an apology?"  Louis asks rhetorically.

Harry's mouth slowly opens.  "N-no."

"Answer my question."  Louis is clearly not in the mood for Harry's stupidity.

He may as well own up to it.  "I fucked up and didn't tell you because I forgot and was busy at work."  He leaves it at that and prays to God Louis doesn't know about Adrien.

"Anything else I should know about?"  Louis lifts an eyebrow.

"Adrien emailed me and he's coming to New York after New Years and wants to..." what even does he want to do?  Hang out?  Go out?  "...discuss stuff."  He decides on finishing with.

Louis' expression doesn't change.  "'Discuss... stuff.'"

"Yeah."  Harry looks from side to side and is suddenly overly conscious of his music playing at an uncomfortable volume.  He turns it off.

"When are you leaving dearest?"  Louis says in a way that makes Harry's gut churn.

"Um... next week."  Harry bites his lip.

Louis' palm twitches.  "Did I just hear an 'um'?"

"...um... yeah..."  Harry tries to hide a smile.  He likes this game.  He knows this game.  This is a win-win for them both.

"Harry baby.  Are you trying to make me more angry than I already am?"  Louis clasps his hands together.

Harry's cheeks go red.  "Um... yeah."

Louis matches Harry's gaze square in the eye.  "I could beat you for that, but you'd enjoy it too much."

Harry swallows.

"Do you have anything urgent this evening?"  Louis asks.

"No."  Harry answers.

"Follow me."  Louis turns and Harry follows.

When they reach the door, Harry realizes they're leaving his apartment, so he reaches for his keys.  "May I put my boots on Mr. Tomlinson?"

Louis opens the door for Harry.  "Yes and you are not permitted to speak until I tell you so."

Harry nods as he trips into his boots and rushes to follow Louis.  By the time they're outside of the complex, the breeze hits Harry and he realizes it's fucking freezing and he didn't bring a jacket.  It's just him and his yellow tee and oldest pair of jeans against the snow. 

Louis turns into the nearest bodega and Harry follows closely behind. 

He walks straight up to the cashier whose name tag reads 'Heather'.  "Pardon, where are your sharpies?"

Heather points to the corner of the store.  "Down the isle to the left."

"Harry, go fetch those for me."  Louis doesn't look at him.

Harry moves before his brain tells him to do so.  He's in the corner and staring at 5 different colors of Sharpies before he even thought to ask what kind Louis wants.  Jesus he's so stupid.  What width?  Which size of pack?  What color?  What brand?

He grabs one of each kind and meets Louis back at Heather who is looking curiously at them both.

Louis glances at Harry's armful of markers with an amused look then turns back to Heather.  "Just the single black Sharpie will do."

Harry pulls that one from the pile and sets it on the counter, unsure of what to do with the other six packs he's still holding.

Louis slides a 20 dollar bill onto the counter.  "Keep the change- and do you have a piece of cardboard we could have?"

"Yeah sure."  Heather looks behind her at a pile of empty boxes.  "Let me grab a box cutter."

"Don't worry about that darling.  He's got it."  Louis says without looking at Harry.

Harry rushes behind the counter and rips a flap of the lid off of one of the boxes.

Louis grabs a beanie from the shelf and shoves it on Harry's head then writes in black Sharpie on the cardboard 'ASK ME WHY I'M HERE'.

Harry's eyes go bigger as Louis hands him the sign.  He clings to it like an oxygen tank.

"Harry, do you know why I'm making you do this?"  Louis looks him straight in the eyes.

Harry's fingers dig into the cardboard.  "Because I didn't talk to you before..." he doesn't want to reveal too much in front of Heather the cashier, "because I didn't disclose information to you."

Louis' lip twitches like he almost let a smile slip.  " _Very_  good.  Now, that street corner looks good to me, what do you think?"

Harry looks out the window to the busy Manhattan sidewalk and nods.

"I have to stay in here so that I'm not papped next to you, but I'll be watching the whole time.  Do you have your phone on you?"  Louis looks to Harry's pocket.

Harry nods.

"Text me if the distress is too much."  Louis says.

Harry understands.  Colors.  Louis is making sure he knows he can color out. 

"Why the fuck are you still standing here?"  Louis snaps.

Harry trips over himself as he barrels through the front.  The door chime yelps behind him and then his ears are overtaken with the sounds of sirens, cars honking, and people talking.

He wonders when he stopped being surprised by the sounds of the streets here.

The corner comes too quickly and he stands alert, looking over his shoulder at all the people passing him by.  He feels so damn conspicuous and has no idea how everyone isn't asking him what the hell he's doing already.  What if he scares little kids?  He doesn't exactly look approachable in his nasty clothes and tall stature.

When he breathes out, he can see his exhale in the chilly air.  He looks up at the overcast sky and prays it doesn't snow.  Under his feet is the frozen sidewalk and black slush from the snow that doesn't stick. 

A bicycle bell rings in front of Harry's face and he jumps back in surprise.

"Mr. Styles Junior; a delivery."  The courier hands him a jacket.

Harry stares at the jacket, then looks over his shoulder.  He can't see Louis because the store front is too far behind him.  He puts the jacket on and smiles because the warmth embracing him feels like Louis has his back.

"Thank you."  Harry reaches for his wallet to tip the courier.

"Nah man, looks like you need it more than me."  The courier nods then cycles off.

Harry finds himself squinting because like, it's been a while since somebody hasn't recognized him.  He looks around him and wonders if that's why he expected more people to instantly mob him.  But then again, it's actually been a while since Harry has been in a normal public place with people who are just going about their days and have more important things to worry about than what the stock market is doing or what new gadgets are being released.

There's probably two hundred people lined up across the street from him in line trying to get tickets to Hamilton and other people dressed up in costumes trying to get tips from tourists and Harry feels kind of unimportant for the first time in a long time.

He wonders when he started feeling important in the first place.

He grins from cheek to cheek because holy shit.  Harry feels important to Louis and that's all that matters.  He doesn't care about being important to all these random people.  He doesn't care about status or wealth or accolades and there's like this huge ginormous weight that is off his chest because he feels like he's found a part of himself that he had forgotten existed. 

He texts Louis. 

**Green :))**

Louis messages back with the kissing emoji.  Harry is about to pocket his phone, but then feels a Twitter notification that must mean Louis tweeted because he doesn't have anyone else's alerts on.

**@RealDesmondStyles Wolfie rise ;)**

Harry swallows and recognizes a feeling in his throat when he knows things are about to escalate.  Louis is up to things and Harry is so ready to rise to the challenge.

An African American man startles Harry out of his train of thought.  "Man what the fuck are you doing out here?"

Harry blinks because he wasn't prepared.  "I uh..."  he looks down at his cardboard sign, "I didn't... disclose information."  He finds himself trying to hide a smile.

"Stay warm my man."  He hands Harry a five dollar bill and Harry just kind of stares at it like it's supposed to fix his current situation. He thinks he wants to donate it to someone who actually needs it.

A white utility van screeches up to the curb and Harry's learned to recognize the logo that is smeared across the side.  He signs in resignation.  He hates this part of his life.

The vehicle door slides open and paparazzi pile out like sardines breaking free from their tin can.  Harry squints in preparation for the dozens of white hot lights that always blind him.

Three more utility vans with different logos all pull up to where he's standing as the first responders start assaulting him with questions. 

"Is this related to Mr. Tomlinson's tweet?"

"What do you have to say about fucking up the company right before the holidays?"

"How are you associated to Kylie?  Is she having your kid?"

"Why do you think you're fit to run your father's company?"

Boom mics are shoved in front of his face and the attention of pedestrians and by standers have now shifted to the scene.

"Harry, how's your day going?"

"Why do you feel comfortable having a P.A. who's girlfriend is the daughter of Nokia?"

"What do you have to say about the alleged sexual relationship between yourself and Mr. Tomlinson?

"Have you been in touch with Adrien Pierre?"

Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath like Pablo taught him.  They're just trying to get a rise out of him.  They're just trying to get a rise.  Deep breath.  He imagines himself in Kentucky next week and smiles at the thought of being back in the forest.

Police sirens shriek out and Harry knows that means the street has become so congested that the cops need to direct traffic and will likely ask Harry to leave. 

Any direction he turns will be another busy street, so it's not like he can just move everyone to a more convenient place.  He feels horrible for all the people whose day he's inconveniencing.  He wonders what the hell Louis wants him to do.

Should he invite Louis to Kentucky?

The thought makes him laugh.  Laugh out of embarrassment and out of stupidity.  Louis would never come to Kentucky.  Nor would he fit in there.  He imagines the picture of Louis standing in his custom 16,000 dollar suit in his barn and laughs harder. 

"Mr. Styles!  This is the last time we're going to ask you to remove yourself!"  A police officer barks.

Harry tosses the sign to the ground and a reporter jumps to grab it.  He intends to walk away until he realizes about four other reporters are jumping toward him and god damn it people are shoving him now and he knows this isn't going to end well.

Now, if you would have asked Harry six months ago what he pictures being caught up in the middle of a stampede would be like, he certainly would have imagined finding himself underneath ungulates and not humans.  Nevertheless, the cold sidewalk he had been observing earlier meets his cheekbone and he feels feet on his lower back and is joined on the ground by another paparazzi. 

Arms surround him like a lifeguard yanking someone out of the jaws of a shark and he turns to thank his savior until he realizes he's being shoved against the side of a cop car, handcuffed, and frisked.

He blushes as the cop pats him down and has no idea what he's supposed to be doing.  If it were Louis doing it to him, he'd wait for instructions.  So he stays very still and waits.

The officer is listing off his rights and Harry thinks he's being arrested, but he's not really sure.  He's ripped off of the car door so that the cop can open it, and right as he's being shoved into the backseat, he sees a flash of blue polka dots and a very angry Louis. 

Harry grins because he loves Louis. 

"Where the fuck do you think you're taking him?!"  Louis yells at the officer.

Harry's glad the door is still open so that he can hear the exchange.

"Back down Mr. Tomlinson or we will have to use force."  The cop threatens with a hand on his nightstick.

Louis backs down immediately and looks to Harry as hundreds of paparazzi flashes surround him. 

Harry wants him to stay calm because he's honestly fine.  He's never ridden in a cop car before and is mostly excited.  He doesn't want to directly address Louis though, otherwise that's going to be a shit storm for the media.

"Pacific Avenue!"  Harry yells with a smile.

Louis looks puzzled and the officer turns to slam the car door on Harry. 

It's instantly quiet as the commotion from outside is muted.  The officer gets in the car and starts the engine and siren.

As they pull away from the scene, Harry turns to look out the back window.  He sees the moment when Louis's face goes from exasperation to pride.

Green.

~~~


	51. Chapter 50

**~~~**

**Incapable, Incompetent, and Incarcerated**

**Styles Jr. Arrested for Disorderly Conduct**

**Styles Scuffle with Tomlinson?**

**Roots Stocks Drop to Shocking Low**

**Styles Jr. Attacks Paparazzi**

**Tomlinson Involved in Styles' Arrest**

**The End to Stylinson?**

Harry doesn't know why he's surprised that Niall is the one to come bail him out and not his father.  All of his belongings are back in his pockets and he sits uncomfortably in the back seat next to Niall in a black Mercedes.  He wonders why Louis loves Mercedes' so much.

Niall scrolls through his phone.  "Harry, what were you thinking?  This looks horrible to the public."

"You wouldn't understand."  He stares out the tinted window.

"I think you'd be surprised at the things I understand."  Niall sighs.

Harry doesn't like that response, so he glares at him.  "I'll tell you something I don't understand.  I don't understand why you think it's okay to date the daughter of one of our competitor companies.  Do you realize the breaches in security we could have because of that?"

Niall looks disgusted.  "You're fucking kidding me, right?"

"Do I look like I am?"  Harry challenges.  "I just got arrested and the public is having enough of a hay day with that- why the hell do you think it's okay to step out of line by breaching your contract?  You're only making our company look more unstable."

"You really want to talk to me about- about breaching contracts?"  Niall sounds baffled.  "And- sexual relationships with competitors?  Really Harry?  Have you seen the headlines on all the gossip rags since you moved here- because I'm pretty sure you fail on the daily in attempting to hide your relationship with Louis."

Harry's jaw drops.  "Fucking excuse me?"

"Jesus Christ.  Drop the act."  Niall rolls his eyes.  "Everybody in this god damn country knows you two are fucking."

Harry seethes at him.

"Oh-  _oh_ \- you thought-" Niall pushes his glasses up his nose, "you thought  _you_ were single handedly taking down the reputation of the company?" 

Niall gives a false laugh.  "Harry, the truth is everyone knows Louis owns the technology, manufacturing, patents, I.P., and the god damned decision makers of Roots right now.  Did you ever stop for a second to question why the hell Metal Core's sales have been soaring since you moved here?  Or- or have you only been tracking our company's progress since you started?  Because I can sure as hell tell you Metal Core hasn't ever been marginally close to the industry lead and now they have a monopoly on the market."

Harry stares at Niall.

"I've been doing this for a hell of a long time and aside from Louis being a notorious scumbag who only looks out for his self-interest, the last time he's been this popular with the media was when he was associated with the Prince of England and then chose to leak a video of the Prince on his knees with Louis' cock in his mouth.  If you don't think he won't do the exact same thing to you then you're nothing more than a naïve backwoods hick who doesn't belong here."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."  Harry stands by that.  Niall has no clue what his relationship is like with Louis.

Niall sneers.  "No,  _you_  don't have any idea what  _you're_  talking about.  You're so fucking new and think you have all the god damned answers.  I'm sick of watching you ruin this company and my career and reputation.  I worked my  _ass_  off to get where I'm at, and now you're making me sit here and listen to you go off on how you think you know my best friend better than I fucking do.  Jesus Christ please."

"Your what?"  Harry's heart is racing a mile a minute.

"What?"  Niall snaps back.

"Did you just say- who's your best friend?"  Harry queries.

"What the fuck are you-" Then all the blood drains from Niall's face.

Harry doesn't even know how to process any of that right now, so he responds with pure instinct.  "Hey Niall.  You're fired."

There's a part of him that also wants to be vindictive about it and blast Niall to the public.  Harry could ruin his career if he wanted.  He could make it so that Niall was stuck working in a sandwich shop the rest of his life.  He could call up a number of paparazzi agencies and have the news hit the stands by tomorrow.  He could type out 140 characters that could-

"You can't fire me."  Niall scoffs.  "It's not in your job description."

"Oh I'm sorry.  Let me call the decision maker for the company then."  Harry whips out his phone.

As the tone starts to ring, Harry realizes he's going to need to have this put together more before he starts making demands out of anybody.  He needs to find where his power is and where his apparent vulnerable spots are.  He has to start connecting the dots regardless of if he wants to process it emotionally or not.

Niall and Louis are best friends.  Niall claims he knows more than Harry thinks he does.  That probably includes the inner goings-on of the company.  That means Niall probably knows about Harry being his sub too.  Which- is embarrassing in and of itself- but there's no time to dwell on that.

Assuming he knows all the dynamics of their relationship, that must mean Louis has been confiding in him.  Niall is observant, but he wouldn't know as much as he does without some of it being shared.  So Louis has been hiding things from him too. 

Louis has been  _hiding_  things from Harry.

Harry smiles.

"Baby, you're out!  I'm so fucking sorry that escalated into a crazy scene.  Are you okay?"  Louis' panicked voice crackles through his phone speakers.

"I'm fine.  Actually, I'm sitting here talking with Niall and firing him for a repudiatory breach in contract.  He's claiming that's outside my pay grade, so I thought I'd call the decision maker for our company for a full approval."  Harry stares straight at Niall.

It's silent for a beat too long, then Louis speaks up.  "What is the cause for termination?"

Harry likes that Louis didn't even try questioning or arguing anything.  "I think you would know better than me considering he's your best friend."

"Harry you can't fire someone because-"

"Yes I fucking  _can_  fire someone who is double crossing my company and breaching his contract in two dozen ways.  But wait- that would just continue to benefit you, right?  You're the one really running Roots into the ground.  It doesn't matter what my father has to say on the matter.  So I'll let you choose between Niall or I.  Give up your power over Roots or give up me."  Harry demands.

Niall is ghost white.

"Baby it's so much more complicated than that.  Niall getting fired won't solve anything."  Louis says with a twinge of sympathy.

"What don't I know?"  Harry asks suddenly.  "What else are you hiding from me?"

"This isn't a conversation to have over the phone.  Can you come straight to mine?"  Louis proposes.

Harry stares at the car floor.  "I'll see you in 20."

~~~

Harry sits on the white leather sofa not knowing what to do with his hands. 

He hunches back into the cushion.

Louis paces aggressively in front of him.  "First off, how the fuck did you come across this information?"

"Niall let it slip that you two were best friends after telling me that I'm completely powerless in my position as soon-to-be CEO."  Harry recites.

"Catch me up.  Why are you powerless?"  Louis turns on a dime to pace the back again.

"Because I'm not the one who actually makes any of the decisions for the company.  I may have influence, but it doesn't compare to my father who actually has the rights.  Unirregardlessly, you own all the patents and technology and me and stuff, so you basically are the one with all the power over the company because my father couldn't be manufacturing our hardware without your consent."  Harry says.

"Did you just say... 'unirregardlessly'?"  Louis stops to squint at Harry.

"Yes..."  Harry clasps his clammy palms together.

"Explain that."  Louis stares straight at him.

"You know like... unirregardlessly of the situation, it still is what it is."  Harry says slowly.

"Do you just mean 'regardless'?"  Louis quirks an eyebrow.

"I... guess?"  Harry stares down at his lap.

Louis goes back to pacing.  "Why the fuck did you think it was appropriate to initiate that kind of call in front of Niall?"

"Because..." Harry pauses to think of exactly what he wants to say.  "Because I wanted to show him that I was more important than him because he was pissing me off."

Louis nods.  "Harry I'm going to be honest... this is where our personal life heavily overlaps with our professional and I don't know whether or not it's appropriate to punish you or not."

"Well it was you lying in the first place that brought us here, so I don't think it would be fair if you punished me for that."  Harry reasons.

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

"Why did you lie?"  Harry sits up straighter.

"It's complicated."  Louis says like it's simple.

"You said that over the phone.  I think I deserve an answer.  Was Niall spying on me this whole time?  He's my fucking assistant Louis!"  Harry grips into his own hands.

Louis shakes his head at himself. 

"He's my subordinate and he knew the entire time that we were together.  He knows more about what's going on in my company than my entire executive board put together and he's  _your_  best friend! Who is he loyal to?"  Harry demands.

"Me."  Louis stops to stare at the ground.

"What the fuck?  For how long?  Have you been manipulating this entire industry for years?  Is that how you became a CEO?"  Harry accuses.

Louis glares with daggers back.  "Yes it god damned is and I don't regret a fucking second of it.  I'm not you and I choose to attain my position in the ways I see fit.  If those don't fit into your moral compass, just know I don't have time for your preaching."  He points to the door.  "And you can get the  _fuck_  out of my home for diminishing my success."

Harry rolls his eyes because the last thing he's doing is leaving.  "Do you do anything with an ounce of integrity?  Or is everything just a power trip for you?"

"Don't start talking to me about integrity."  Louis fires back.  "I don't need to tell you that your father didn't make it to the top with a squeaky clean record.  For gods sakes, look at  _you_.  You are the last person on earth to be preaching about integrity.  Fucking cow farmer inheriting his rich daddy's company."

"Shut up!"  Harry stands up. 

"Get the fuck out of my house if you can't handle the truth."  Louis sneers.

Harry throws a throw pillow at the ground before slamming the door on his way out.

Fuck this place. Fuck Louis. Fuck New York.

Harry is going home.

~~~


	52. Chapter 51 Monopolize Me

 

  
  
~~~

H

The sound of the engine changes as the plane starts to descend.  Harry rouses from his state of sleep and cracks the window shade open.

Kentucky.

The trees stand there like they never left him.  The pastures openly await his presence.

His heart beats faster as the flight attendant comes over the intercom and instructs them to put their tray tables up for landing.

It's finally peaceful in Harry's head.  He's let himself forget all about his problems in New York... it's the only way he can get his head clear.  He'll worry about all the consequences later because he was about to blow a gasket if he stayed there another second.

He disembarks from the plane first- perks of flying first class- and almost forgets his carry-on amidst his rush out.  He knew he wouldn't have the patience to wait for the baggage claim, and luckily, he didn't have that much stuff to bring anyway.

He can't wait to see Grady and Mona.  It's been months since he's spoken to either of them.  After his last phone call to Grady, he just started ignoring all the calls from Mona and then they stopped talking just like that.

But that's how it is, isn't it?  Friends drift apart and then back together.  Harry was in an environment and life where a friendship with them wasn't feasible. 

As he exits the jetway he blinks a couple times to acclimate to his surroundings.  The airport is so... small.  And the casually dressed people make Harry feel like he's been thrown into a different culture.  All the boots and t-shirts and just... regular people.  Regular people with regular hair and make-up and shoes and suitcases.  He looks down at himself in his custom suit.  He had just come from the office and- and Harry's ensemble is probably more expensive than the outfits of the last 19 people who walked passed him put together.

He itches his nose and pretends like everyone staring at him is all in his head.  They don't know him here.  Harry is a nobody in Kentucky and it's how he likes it.  He just happens to look ludicrous in his outfit.  It's not a big deal.  Harry stares at the weirdly dressed people in Times Square all the time.

He shuffles through the terminal into the nearest bathroom.  His duffle bag lands with a thump on the counter.  He splashes a little water from the sink onto his face then runs wet hands through his curls. 

He stares at himself in the mirror.  A man that doesn't look like him stares back.

The man in the mirror is wearing a houndstooth button up underneath a double breasted black wool suit with Allen Edmonds' pre-release of their newest Oxfords.  His hair easily falls passed his shoulders now and his cheeks look sallow.  His neck is slim and his eyes are vacant.

His empty eyes dart up and down the image facing him- searching for meaning- and coming up short every time.  He doesn't know what's missing.  He can't pinpoint what's changed or when.  He doesn't know who he is.

Damp hands clasp the edge of the counter as he hangs his head to take a breath in. 

Everything's going to be okay.  He's in Kentucky.  He's going to find himself again.

~~~

The Lyft he took from the airport home was uneventful.  When he had stepped in the car, the girl's face had gaped open and stuttered out his name.

Harry pretended not to hear her and stared out the window the whole time.

So by the time they're turning down the icy dirt road and pulling into the expansive area that he's always considered his driveway, she speaks up.

"I'm sorry to bother y'all- I know you must get it all the time- but- you're one of my heroes.  Thank you so much."  The driver stumbles.

"What?"  Harry's eyes slide over to her.  "Why?"

The brakes slow the car to a stop.  "My best friend he- he- you inspired him to move outta this place and follow his dreams.  He's in Pembroke Pines now, trainin' with Rick Holladay in drag racin'." 

"Yeah well..." the dust settles from around the windows and Harry grabs his duffle bag, "Good luck to him."

He shuts the door behind him.  As the car drives away, he feels like crying when he smells his ranch. 

His home. 

He looks to the right where the woods are frozen over, to the left where his farm is; and in front of him where the mobile home is.  His shoes already have salt clinging to them for dear life and he crunches his way through the snow to the front door. 

The television static is buzzing through the thin walls- as per usual- but he pauses on the Astroturf porch.

Does he knock?

Does he walk in?

He emailed his parents with all the information, but they never responded back or offered to pick him up from the airport.  Is he even welcomed here?  He hasn't heard from them in months.

He knocks.

"Git the door honey!"  Anne yells from inside.

"I'mma gittin!"  Robert yells back.

Something tips over that Harry assumes to be Robert's TV tray by the sounds of it, and then the doorway reveals his step dad staring at him in striped boxers through the vented screen door.

"Tha fuck."  Robert stares him up and down.  "Anne git your ass here."

"What?  Why?"  She yaps back.

Harry stares down at his salt ombred shoes.

"Your son is on our porch."  The screen door squeaks in protest as Robert opens it for Harry to step in.

"Who?"  Anne yells.

Robert turns his head over his shoulder to yell into the house.  "I said what the fuck is Harry Styles doing on our porch?" 

"I-" Harry starts to explain himself.

Robert cuts him off with a grunt.  "If this ends with Anne in prison, I will incarcerate myself 'n you 'n take your life in one of those sorry cells without even blinkin'."

Harry shifts the duffle on his shoulder.  "No, I-"

Robert grunts louder to cut him off again.

Harry stays silent this time.

Until Anne rounds the corner and shrieks herself into tears.  Harry's duffle is on the ground in seconds and he's captured between his mom's arms. 

"My boy!  Harry!"  She sobs.

"It's alright mom.  I'm alright."  Harry hugs her back.

"Harry, my boy- oh my god."  She cries into his lapels.  "Harry I'm so- I'm so sorry for all of his.  This is all my fault-"

"Mom, stop."  Harry pushes her just far enough away to look her in the eyes.  "I'm fine, okay?"

Her lips quiver as tears keep spilling over.  "You look- you look  _so_  different.  My god- you look so much like him."

Harry's gut twists at the resemblance to his father.  "I'm nothing like him."

"Is he here? Is he comin'?" Her eyes search his. "What are you doing here Harry?"

"I just- I'm-" Harry's gut and brain go in opposite directions. "I just wanted to come home."

"Why? What happened o'er there?" She leads him over to their tiny dining table.

Memories of Louis flash through his mind and body. "I just had to get out. I can't do it."

Anne purses her lips and nods.

"Kid, ya weren't meant to be there anyways. New York ain't no place for us folk." Robert grabs a Pabst Blue Ribbon from the fridge. "They got ya drinkin' yet?"

Harry shrugs. "Not really. Thanks though."

Robert throws an iced tea at him instead.

Harry stumbles to catch it and it falls at his feet. When he looks back up, Robert and Anne are staring at him.

"Do y'all know you got a funny accent now?" Robert asks.

Harry opens his mouth to start an 'um', then catches himself before responding. "No, not really. Everyone there tells me I still have an accent."

"Well ya definitely don't sound like ya used to." He grumbles.

"How long are you stayin' honey?" Anne ushers for everyone to sit down.

"I'm not really sure." He hesitates. "I hadn't really thought it through yet. I figure it's probably time to get my own place... maybe get my own home and have it moved onto the property so I can take over this place."

Robert snorts.

Anne is silent.

"What? Y'all didn't sell it did you?" Harry starts to panic.

"No of course not honey." Anne instantly jumps in. "We just- didn't ever expect you to come back."

Her and Robert make eye contact.  He addresses Harry.  "Did ya stop to think what this could mean for yer mom? What'd you do to make Desmond break his deal? He wanted an heir for that shithole he calls a company more than yer mom's wellbein'."

"That place isn't a shithole." Harry defends. "Sure compared to Metal Core- it's not as progressive and updated- but it's fucking far from a shithole. It's a nicer place than you'll ever have here in Kentucky."

Robert scoffs. "What the fuck are you doin' back here son? Y'all don't belong here."

Harry rolls his eyes but doesn't bother putting down the honorific. "I can run this place better than both of you at this point. I'm smarter and better than I was before. I've never been more equipped for success." He takes a swig of tea. "I can operate by myself and expand the workforce when it becomes time, streamline revenues, and max out your retirement contributions. You don't have to work anymore."

Anne chuckles. "Darlin', I think the only thing you're runnin' from is your life out there. You're too good for this place now."

"I'm not runnin' from anything!" Harry raises his voice. "I'm happy here. I want to be here and I'll be better at being here this time. I know what I'm doing."

"Why Harry?" Robert scoffs. "And what the fuck are we a'possed to do 'bout Desmond? He'll throw your mom in the slammer the second he finds out yer gone. Prolly got the fuckin' FBI on their way already."

"He won't throw mom in prison!" Harry argues. "They have attorneys for these kinds of things."

"Oh yeah? Who's gonna pay for all that? Your dirty daddy's money?" Robert takes a drink of his beer.

Harry slaps the can out of Robert's hand and it slams against the cracked drywall. "Do  _not_. Speak to me like that."

"Where do you get off tellin' a man what to do in his own home?" Robert turns red.

"Last I checked..." Harry quirks an eyebrow, "...the deed has two names on it- neither of which are yours. So please. Tell me more of what I'm not allowed to do."

Anne's voice cracks when she speaks. "What do you want son? You want the farm? Take it- it's yours." Her hand covers her mouth to stifle a sniffle.

Harry's eyes widen in alarm and he wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. "Why you cryin' mama?"

She shakes her head. "You don't even see it son."

"See  _what_?" He urges.

"You're just like him." She sniffles.

Harry feels his eyes get hot. "Mama please stop saying that."

She daintily folds her hands together on the table. "Robert, will you please give us some time alone?"

"Cheyanne." Robert grumbles at her.

" _Robert_." Anne looks at him with daggers.

Robert loudly scoots out of his chair and slams the door on his way out.

"Harry. There's some things you need to know." She starts solemnly. "Do you know how we got this cow farm?"

He fiddles with his sweaty palms. "Yeah, wasn't it inherited from grandpa?"

"It sure was... and your father hated anytime anyone would remind him of it." She sighs. "He been angry since the day I met him and long before that I'm sure of it."

"What do you mean?" Harry furrows his brows together.

"Your father's daddy beat him, Harry." Anne shakes her head. "He done beat him for 14 years 'til he was old enough to beat his daddy back. That was the last day your grandpa ever laid a hand on Desmond. Last time he ever spoke to him too."

"I don't-" Harry itches his cheek.

"Your grandpa gave him this farm for our wedding when we were both 17. Just handed him a piece of paper with a signature and just like that- we had our future secured. The farm is somethin' your dad knew well." She chuckles.

"Harry, I don't know how much thought you give to it, but all I known your father as is a hardworkin' rancher. He could run this outfit tight as you did when you were growin' up. I always thought you looked so much like him when you were out in the barn milkin' them cows every mornin' before the sun rose and breakin' horses till long after dusk." She takes a drink of her Mountain Dew.

"I may look like him, but I'm different than him. We're not the same person." Harry gently argues.

"Hush son, I'm not done." She sets her drink on the table.

Harry nods and complies.

"When we had you, I'd just turned 21. Now, we both were raised where you get hit in the home when your parents needed to punish you." Tears start spilling down her cheeks. "But when your father started hitting you for more than just misbehaving, I can't say I was too surprised because he'd been hittin' me for years too."

"Mom-" Harry's lip trembles.

"I didn't have much a say 'cause anytime I tried, I'd take double the beatin'." She purses her lips together. "The best thing he done for us, Harry, was abandon us with this farm. He left us with everything we needed and took everything we didn't."

Harry's heart feels like it may pound out of his chest.

"He left me with signed divorced papers and I married Robert five months later 'cause I couldn't raise you and take care of this place myself. You weren't even six years old." She sighs. "And I didn't see Desmond again 'til you were 14."

Harry racks his brain to try and recall Desmond ever visiting them again and comes up short. The only reason he'd known what he looked like as he grew up was due to the wedding album Anne kept in their closet. Hell, he didn't even know about Roots or anything. All he knew is his father had moved to New York to be a businessman. He's known next to nothing about Desmond until these last four months.

Anne's tone becomes condescending. "Harry when you were 14 is when your Uncle John passed. At that time, Aunt Cassidy was distraught over his passing. The rest of us," she scoffs, "didn't share her sorrows. I called Desmond when I still had the blood on my hands. You remember Officer Norton?"

Harry nods slowly.

"He gave me one phone call, and one only; like the law abiding officer he is. However, when I used that call to call Desmond; like the good family friend he is, called Robert to get him over to the station to bail me out." She breathes out of her nose. "I never had to spend a night in a cell and I never had a record and that's thanks to Desmond and Officer Norton and Robert. But mostly Desmond; he was on the first flight out here with a herd of his legal team."

"How- how did I not see any of this happening?" Harry pushes a curl behind his ear.

She clicks her tongue. "Y'all were 14. You were up by 4 or 5, to school by 10, home for more chores by 3, workin' the Mercantile or ranch till 10, hangin' with those friends well till midnight. There was no way for you to know. He was here for a couple months- doin' his work outta that Hilton in Louisville."

"He- what?" The thought of him and Desmond being in the same state at any point after he deserted the family- and to be there for his mom- is just- it's just too much.

"We met more than a dozen times and let me tell you, son. He was a changed man in every way but one." Anne looks him in the eyes. "He'd got the fame 'n fortune 'n success so big that I couldn't even wrap my head around it. He talked about places in this world I ain't even heard of. He'd turned from a young cowboy into a filthy businessman. All these things changed, but he was still angry."

"I'm.  _Not_. A filthy businessman." Harry resists sneering.

Anne tsks. "No son, of course not." She swipes a thumb along his cheekbone. "But you  _are_  a businessman."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Ma, I'm a rancher at heart. I always will be. That's why I wanted to come back here in the first place."

A look crosses Anne's face that Harry can't decipher. "Y'all think you belong back here on a farm?"

Harry nods.

"I'll give you a week then. You pretend like you'll be happy havin' your old life back and we'll see where yer at in seven days."

Harry smiles.

If there's one thing he's good at, it's proving people wrong.

~~~


	53. Chapter 52 Monopolize Me

  
~~~

L

"Fuck!" Louis smacks the hourglass off his desk.

Papers flutter through the air as several files fall off the side.

"Fuck!" He kicks his desk.

It rattles and his Aurora Diamante fountain pen plunks on the floor.

"Fuck!" He screams at the printer.

"If you kick that too, you're going to-" Niall starts, but is cut off by the sound of Louis kicking his Neiman Marcus' into the printer.

The printer protests with a beep, then the whirring fan dies out and it's silent in the room.

Louis ribcage expands with every huff of breath and he wipes the sweat off his forehead.

The door squeaks open and Niall and Louis both turn their attention to the door.

"Mr. Tomlinson, is it a good time?" Zayn asks coolly.

"What do you need?" Louis' gruff voice is calmer than it has been in the last half hour.

Zayn doesn't glance down at the folder in his hands. "Just need to check in with you about the Razor Edge account-"

"Take care of it." Louis states.

"Yes sir." Zayn shuts the door behind him on his way out.

"What the fuck is wrong with me Niall?" Louis presses against his temples.

"You don't exactly live a life that's inviting for others to join. Has nothing to do with you. It's just our lives." Niall continues typing away on his phone.

"I can't believe you fucked me over Niall. What's going to happen to me?" He points his finger to his chest. "Huh? Tell me. Is he going to fuck me over too? What about my father?"

"He's doing you and your company a favor right now. I don't think he's out to get you." Niall shrugs off. "And get a better lawyer."

"Why the fuck wouldn't he be? You saw how irate he was before he left." Louis paces. "I have the fucking  _best_  lawyer. I'm seconds away from ordering a hit from the Westies to Judge Walden. 

"Not everyone is like you." Niall pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose without breaking eye contact with his phone. "And don't work with the Westies again- not since that stupid marijuana bust."

Louis snorts.

"Harry's just dense enough to think he can waltz back into his old life." Niall says easily. "Again, less stability for Roots, and you walk away with the upper hand- like always."

Louis shakes his head. "Something isn't right. This is going to end terribly. There's something amiss."

"So take control of it." Niall says simply.

"I  _can't_." Louis smacks his desk. "Harry's on the warpath of no control whatsoever. You're a fucking idiot if you think he'll submit to me."

"I wasn't talking about your personal relationship with him, but now that you bring it up, you should probably get that under control too." Niall holds back a chuckle.

"Very funny." Louis rolls his eyes. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Don't you have friends for these kinds of questions?" Niall flicks his eyes up to Louis.

Louis gives him a deadpan stare back.

"No-" Niall puts his phone down in his lap, "like...  _friends_."

"I'm not following." Louis blinks.

Niall sighs. "Wasn't there that chick- er, well- dude Devry or something?"

"Ahhh." Louis gets where he's coming from now. "Excellent idea Niall."

"I'm an excellent idea giver." Niall picks up his phone again.

Louis stares at him.

After a beat of silence, Niall makes a shooing motion. "No time like the present."

Louis whips out his phone and selects Devry from his favorites.

It automatically goes to voicemail.

He dramatically sighs, then pockets his phone.

"No answer?" Niall's interest piques.

"Nope." Louis clicks his tongue. "Probably in a training."

Niall furrows his brows. "What does he do again?"

"A Devotee Independent contractor." Louis responds.

Niall lifts his brows with resignation. "Could you be more ambiguous?"

"He runs the 10-week courses at SNCTM for new Doms and subs." Louis reminds him.

"Why are there so many god damned acronyms in your community?" Niall asks rhetorically.

"I don't know, why don't you ask Damon?" Louis says with exasperation.

"Who the fuck is Damon?" Niall asks like he doesn't care.

"Damon Lawner?" Louis waits for a reaction, but none comes. He sighs. "Fucking never mind. Back to the issue at hand."

"Which- which one?" Niall squints. "Your ex sub abandoning you, your sister being pregnant, your colleague running the company you built, your dad in prison, or your competitor dying of cancer? I've lost track."

Louis presses a hand to his forehead and slides down into his office chair and mutters. "Fuck."

H

Harry hums some Patsy Cline to himself as he milks Carley. It's been a long morning already of checking and washing cow udders and feeding chickens, horses, cows, and cats. Normally, he'll hook Carley up to one of his dozens of automated milking machines, but this morning- he wants to feel a little bit closer to his work.

He wants to smell the nature and feel the rhythm and texture of his job. He wants to hear the back and forth whishing of Carley's tail and the muted crunching of her food; the sound of the liquid hitting the metal vat he's using to collect the milk. That feeling of resting his forehead against her ribcage.

This.

This is home.

Carley seems to read his thoughts and she moo's in agreement.

Harry smiles to himself and his friends around him.

Lola the Siamese cat- one of their best mousers- has been lounging around him all morning. As if she was welcoming him back all by herself.

He's sure the other eight cats will turn up, but for now, Lola is enough for him.

The crickets slow their chirping as the sun starts to tease its way back into the sky.

He's sure he'll be able to clean the equipment, check in on pregnant cows, change the oil in the John Deere- since he knows Anne and Rob are notorious for neglecting it- shovel manure, organize the barn, and lay fresh hay for the hens by noon.

He thinks he'll take a lunch today. And at lunch, he wants to write up some business planning for the ranch.

Over and over again, he tells himself to wait until lunch, but the fear of forgetting his ideas keeps rushing over him. Over and over again, he has to push the irrationality from his mind.

Be present.

He's lucky to be present. There will always be time for business planning.

He rolls his hand around then shakes it off. It hasn't stopped cramping and he's only been at it for 12 minutes. He's sure he's just a little out of practice.

By 14 minutes, he's doing more massaging on his hand than Carley's udders. He probes around to feel that she's just about dry.

Avoiding overthinking, he takes a deep breath, squeezes on another teat for two more minutes before she's finished expressing her milk.

It's not that Harry was timing himself; but when he checks his phone, he notes that it's never taken him 16 minutes to milk a cow in his entire life... especially Carley.

He shakes his head at himself and thinks about turning his phone off Airplane mode.

Fingers hovering over the button, he decides to shut off the screen and pocket it instead. He doesn't need the rest of the world intruding into his life anymore.

~~~

By 3pm, Harry's dragged himself into the house to bandage his hands.

The bleeding wasn't so bad at first, but when it kept dripping into his eyes from under the tractor, he figured he should properly take care of it- seeing as it soaked completely through his make-shift t-shirt bandage.

He really needs his hands to pull it together because he's come to find that there's an issue with the pipes having frozen again. He hasn't had to do any kind of plumbing on those things for a couple of years, so he's not surprised it's time again. It's just unfortunate it's going to take him a lot more time than he originally planned. He'll have to call up Dave again to give him the crash course... it's been a minute since Harry has had to think about frozen pipes.

He runs his hands under the cold sink water before drying them with his now ruined shirt.

Well, that's not to say the shirt wouldn't have already qualified as ruined. It  _has_  been six years since Harry got it for free from that Fourth of July rodeo where Grady won his third gold medal in bull riding.

He tosses it in the trash because really, he should just buy himself a new t-shirt anyway. That one was too small and everything about it was a tattered mess.

In his closet, he stares at the vacancy. He vividly remembers packing hardly a duffle bag full of clothes for New York. It's not like he took everything with him. But as he continues to stare, he sees like... one button up rodeo shirt, two folded t-shirts, and one pair of Wranglers.

Oh, and the suit he flew in.

Literally two things on hangers and one of them he's owned for less than a month and the other he's owned for five years and he wonders why he's trepident to put on the latter.

He decides he'll just plan a trip into town in the next couple days to go and revamp his closet.

For now though, he needs to run to the Mercantile to get oil for the Deere since the racoons demolished the spare container full of back up oil.

He grabs his Shamrock t-shirt, Carhartt, keys to their '94 Tahoe and reminds himself it's going to take him a couple days to get acclimated back into normal life.

~~~

L

Louis taps his Cartier ball point pen against the marble conference room table.

A light tapping echoes off the walls.

"Mr. Tomlinson?" A female voice with a Russian accent speaks up.

"Yes?" He says without breaking eye contact with the blue and green abstract painting on the wall.

"Why are you in here all alone?" She asks.

"Are you being paid to ask me questions?" He swivels around to see it's Ana.

"No, but I am being paid to let you know you've maxed out your contributions to your Roth and we need to move your investments to a separately managed account." She leans against the doorway. "Do you have a minute?"

"Sure." Louis sighs in defeat. He should just retire now and cut out the need for dealing with any more of this bullshit. Isn't this why he pays her in the first place?

"Do you want to go risky or conservative with your next investment?" She asks.

"Risky. I've gone conservative with the last 40 thousand." He goes back to staring at the green and blue artwork.

"I must say, I was surprised by your last four investments. Everyone warned me when I took over your account that you'd continue repeatedly going risky then fire me when one of the mutual funds contributors went under." She marks some boxes on her papers.

Louis snorts but doesn't say anything further.

"Everyone was starting to say your fire was burning down." She says lightly. "With Mr. Malik taking your place left and right and your lack of presence in the office... I heard you only worked 40 hours last week."

"Why the fuck are you talking to me?" Louis rolls his eyes.

"Just trying to make small talk. I apologize." Ana starts writing a series of things down on her paper.

"Anything else?" Louis asks.

"I'll be in touch once we have everything finalized." She caps her Bic pen and stands up to leave.

Louis doesn't say anything.

He tries not to think about anything.

His phone rings.

He stares at the artwork.

His phone keeps ringing and at a glance he sees it's Devry.

He answers.

"Tomlinson."

"Louis, that's no way to address your superior." Devry says.

"I'm at work, what do you need?" He says dejectedly.

"What do _I_  need? I'm just returning a missed call from an old friend whom I haven't spoken with in months." Devry chuckles.

"What?" Louis spins around and stares out the massive window wall into a frosted Central Park. "Oh! Shit, sorry. No, yeah, how's it going Dev?"

"Oh it's going well. Sorry I missed your call, I was out fishing." He says.

"Fishing?" Louis lifts his brows at the ice on the corners of the window outside. "It's fucking 30 degrees out."

"Ice fishing." Devry corrects himself. "What's going on with you?"

"So I have a situation." Louis starts.

"That's not the first time I've heard that." Devry says with a smile.

Louis looks over his shoulder to make sure he's alone. "Do you know Harry Styles?"

"Personally? Of course not." Devry says.

Louis huffs. "Don't be difficult please."

"Very well." Devry sighs. "Yes I know Harry. I see him often when I'm checking out at the bodega. The Sun sure has a lot to say about the two of you."

"He went back to Kentucky." Louis says.

"Permanently?" He asks.

"Not sure." Louis goes back to tapping his pen on the table.

"I see." Devry is silent for a moment. "What is it you need Louis?"

Louis sets his pen down. "I need to know what's wrong with me."

"Why do you feel there's something wrong with you?" He asks sincerely.

"I started things with him because- well- it's a long story." Louis rolls his eyes at himself.

"So give me a summary." He urges.

"I started things with him for reasons that were in my self-interest and advantage. Then we got like, involved... and now he's gone." Louis frowns at himself. He thinks he portrayed that incorrectly.

"Louis, is your relationship with him a business transaction or is it a contract between the both of you?" He asks.

"It's neither... but also both." Louis rubs his lapels between his thumb and index finger. "It's extremely complicated. I don't know what to do. There isn't a-a box, or a category, or anything that Harry fits in. He fits in all of them and none of them at the same time."

"How strong are your feelings for him?" Devry asks.

"I don't actually know." Louis shakes his head at himself.

"Is it like Ethan?" Devry asks.

"More emotional than that." Louis says.

"Derek?" Devry asks.

"More history than that." Louis says.

"John?" Devry asks.

"Sadder than that." Louis laughs lightly at himself.

There's a brief silence.

"Louis, it sounds like Harry is your everything." Devry says.

"Ha! How trite." Louis spins around in his leather chair. "That's quite a joke."

"How so?" Devry asks gently.

"Just-" Louis quirks an eyebrow at himself, "that's not even what that would look like."

"What would it look like?" He asks.

Louis' mouth opens to answer but he thinks he was ill prepared to answer such a broad question.

"You're still arguing with reality, Louis." Devry sounds like he's getting out of a car. "I've told you from the beginning you need to submit to what is. Through submission is the only way you can truly find your control. You're still unwilling."

Louis clicks his pen.

"I'm on my way to go fish. Let's catch up later?"

"Yeah." Louis says softly. "Yeah."

Devry hangs up and Louis continues to stare at the abstract painting.

~~~


	54. Chapter 53

 

A/N: As a reminder, I am more consistent at updating on Wattpad :) I'm a couple chapters ahead, and hope to get the rest of the chapters uploaded to AO3 this week. Thank you for reading!

~~~           

H

Harry walks into Smith and Edwards and stops just inside the doorway.

The store is exactly as he remembers it. Except it definitely seems bigger.

Except it feels more like walking into an old dream he's had when sleeping. He just feels... misplaced.

He shakes his head at himself, tucks his too-long hair behind his ears, grabs a cart, and heads to the clothing section. If he feels his toe pop out of the hole in his sock one more time, he might throw his boot across the store.

The rickety cart rolls in an uneven line and squeaks as Harry yanks it along behind him. He frowns as he grabs a six pack of white socks. White socks look weird to him now. He wonders how many more times he's going to have that feeling.

He throws in a pack of his old favorite underwear, white shirts, then turns the corner to the graphic tees. He stares at the shelves forlornly.

There's one that's a basic red with 'Wranger' written across it. That one will suffice. At least it will be better than the Shamrock one that currently is draped on his torso.

After staring at the shirts for another minute or so, he blinks and moves on.

He wipes his hands off on his pants. He hadn't been too self-aware of his hands until leaving his farm. They definitely have cow shit all over them and they definitely are crusty and cold. Why doesn't he remember ever paying attention to these things before?

When he grabs a bag of hair ties off the shelf, he rips the pack open, and ties his hair into a bun. Thank Jesus it's finally off his face.

After throwing a bag of chicken feed and some cattle supplements into his cart, hushed whispers make him turn around to see two girls around his age with their phones out and pointed at him.

He picks up his pace and takes the corner too sharply, running into someone else's cart. The cart pushes the man with a cowboy hat on into the shelf and several puzzles get knocked onto the floor.

Harry immediately starts apologizing. "Shit sir, I'm so sorry-"

"The fuck asshole?!" The man turns to confront him and Harry goes white.

It's Grady. And Harry can feel his heart in his throat.

Grady loses all color too and his mouth stays popped open and scans Harry up and down.

Harry's eyes widen and he about faces. Abandoning his cart, he starts power walking away. He'll take the stalker girls who will sell their videos and pictures to the media. He'll take a press conference or a work meeting with no real purpose. He'll take bleeding hands and cow shit.

But he definitely, definitely, does not want to see Grady right now.

"You gotta be fucking kiddin' me." Grady raises his voice.

Harry walks faster.

The exit is only like, 50 more yards away. If he weaves through the clothing section just right, he can-

"Harry fuckin' Styles!" Mona appears into his side view and he feels like he should definitely stop.

He keeps going forward.

Then he feels the back of his stupid green shirt being tugged, and as he turns, he feels a biting slap across the face.

"You fuckin' prick!" Mona says with disgust.

When Grady catches up, he shoves Mona to the side and she trips and falls back onto a shelf, knocking over bags of candy.

Harry sees the swing before it comes and dodges Grady's fist. He never realized until just now how much bigger he is than Grady. It's not that Grady is Louis' size by any means, but Harry is much, much bigger.

He lets the next punch land in his gut and barely flinches. He never really did before either.

Grady keeps pursuing, even though Harry has started backing up. "The fuck do you think yer doin' here? Get the fuck outta my town you fuckin' sell out cock sucker! Go back home to your bitch boyfriend!"

Harry backhands him.

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Harry warns.

"Whatcu' gonna do huh?" Grady taunts. "Yer too good for us here now anyway. Go run back to your daddy's trust fund."

Grady knows. And he crossed the line. And he knows Harry knows he knows.

He turns around to leave. He won't continue to engage with Grady. He wanted to walk away in the first place.

Mona comes up and grabs his wrist. "Harry wait-"

"Don't." He shakes her off him.

Grady starts yelling after him again. "Yeah keep runnin' with yer tail between yer legs. Don't come back faggot."

Harry's brain takes him back into what feels like another dream from long ago. Right before he left for France.

_"That sounds like it will be a lot of fun."  Louis helps Harry back up onto the bed.  "I know you'll do amazing baby.  You're absolutely incredible at everything you do."_

_Louis makes him breakfast while Harry packs his Brazilian suit in the garment bag and before Harry leaves his house, Louis pulls him into a tight hug._

_Louis kisses his neck.  "I love you."_

_"I love you too."  Harry gets out hardly in a whisper.  He's never said that to anyone before.  Not out loud.  Not meaning it 100 percent.  Not romantically._

_"I'll miss you so much baby."  Louis holds him and Harry just feels safe and warm and perfect and he never wants to leave this spot._

_"Miss you too."_

Harry's eyes open with a water clouding his vision. "Fuck." He mutters to himself.

"Yeah- tell  _Louis_  you're a bigger pussy than you look like!" Grady laughs.

Harry turns around and punches Grady with every muscle behind it. Mona yelps and Grady is on the floor.

Harry straddles Grady's torso and bars his forearm across his neck. Blood is coming from Grady's nose and a gash on his eyebrow. He tries to force Harry off, but Harry isn't moving.

"You." Harry gets close to his face. "Are a low life scumbag. I wasted so many years letting you hit me and hurt me."

Grady stops trying to move.

Harry quirks a brow at him. "I don't give a fuck what you think about me because I'm not here to please you. I'm here for me. For  _once_ \- I'm doing things for me. You better get used to that."

He releases his arm from Grady's neck, but keeps his hands on the floor by his head. "If you ever insult Louis again, you'll be walking away with much less of your crooked teeth and I will make your life hell. Do not test me."

And imperceptible nod comes from Grady.

Harry stokes his face and gently thumbs over his brow bone. "Smile for the camera babe."

Grady's eyes widen in horror.

Harry leans down to kiss him and then hops up.

Mona is open mouth staring at the two of them.

The pair of girls have their cameras still out and their jaws mirror Mona's.

A couple more men and women had stopped to watch the scene too.

Harry goes over to hug Mona and kiss her on the cheek. "I missed you. And I'm sorry for being a bad friend. Can we catch up later?"

"Sure." Mona says, still paralyzed.

Harry waves a hand at the small crowd. "Have a blessed day y'all."

And with that, he leaves the store.

~~~

**Prodigal Son Returns!**

**Harry Styles Batting for Other Team- CONFIRMED**

**Styles Jr. Leaves Styles Sr. to the Wolves!**

**Country Town Show Down**

**Old Love Dies Hard**

**Farmer Fries Old Friends**

**End of Larry Stylinson?!**

Louis, Niall, and Zayn stare at the refresh option that Youtube offers them after watching a video of Harry's run-in with his old friends in some ranch store.

Louis blinks.

"Well that was unexpected." Zayn says. "That boy looked like he shit himself... twice."

"Now we know how big of an improvement he made jumpin' in bed with you." Niall says.

"Not to mention how much he's grown. Christ. Did he used to talk and act like them too?" Zayn laughs.

"Yes." Louis and Niall say in unison.

"Jesus." Zayn mutters.

Most of the audio on Harry's part was inaudible, but the girls who had posted the film added subtitles according to what was said on the scene.

"What do you think blew him over the edge?" Zayn asks.

"Definitely the 'daddy' comment. That's a hella trigger for him." Niall says.

"No, because Harry didn't turn around and punch him till the dude said Louis' name." Zayn reasons.

"He fucking hates me." Louis raises his brows in ennui and self-abdication.

"Clearly." Niall scoffs. "As shown by his threat to leave Billy there with less of his crooked teeth if he talks about you again."

Zayn nods with approval. "That was a good one."

"He fucking kissed him." Louis says with distaste.

"Yeah. To prove a god damned point." Niall says. "Point fucking proven."

"What the fuck is that green number though?" Zayn points to his shirt.

"Dude, you should have seen him when we got him from the airport." Niall shakes his head with distaste.

"He really thinks he can just slide back into his own life? He hasn't even turned his phone on yet for god's sakes." Louis huffs.

"I think that." Zayn points to the screen. "Was just as big of a wake up call to Harry as it was to Jimmy."

"It's Grady." Louis says through his teeth.

"Sure." Zayn says.

Louis' office door slams open. An angry Desmond is trailed by a frightened secretary.

"The trio! Just who I was looking for!" He stalks forward in his blood red Oxfords. "Except you seem to be missing one!"

The three of them are on their feet in seconds. Niall turns around as if to hide himself, muttering 'fuck'; Zayn heading to the front of the desk to protect Louis; and Louis standing his ground.

"Niall calm down, I've known you've been double crossing me since I hired you. No need to act scared now." Desmond stops when he gets to Zayn.

Niall freezes.

Desmond speaks over Zayn's shoulder. "And imagine my satisfaction knowing Louis couldn't even come close to competing even with my right hand man on his payroll."

"Leave." Louis commands the secretary.

The door shuts behind her and it's just the four of them.

Louis tries to sound like he's unbothered. "Is there a reason for your breaking and entering?"

"Just finished brunch with Judge Walden- only to find out you've dug your father's grave." Desmond pushes the most recent tabloid about Harry's sexuality into Zayn's hands.

"Desmond." Louis scoffs. "Harry can run your company and fuck whomever he'd like."

"Don't be dense! The board will never let him take over- not with the lobbyists we have in our corner! Harry can't be gay!" Desmond yells.

"Too god damned bad because he is!" Louis slams his hand on the table. "Maybe you should have considered that before putting your retirement into the hands of your son!  _Clearly_ \- he wants the world to know he's gay despite our influence over him."

"His life is over." Desmond huffs out a laugh and shakes his head.

"He's made his decision. He wanted to go back to that shithole despite the repercussions." Louis says smugly.

"I'll throw his mother in prison then. He's broken his end of the contract." Desmond says tritely.

Niall clears his throat.

Everyone looks at him.

"I just- don't know why anyone's surprised." He fixes his glasses. "He's notorious for breaking contracts."

"Not the time Niall." Zayn mumbles.

"The public will accept him just fine back into the company." Louis says. "You just need to reform your board."

"Ha." Desmond rolls his eyes. "You young boys know nothing of loyalty."

"No, no." Louis seethes. "I'm the one who has worked my whole life to revert my dad from being framed and released from prison. You're the one who selfishly uses his family for blackmail and gain. Don't you speak to me of loyalty."

"Watch your mouth." Desmond warns.

"Hey now." Zayn tries to cool everyone off.

"Cart his mom off to prison." Louis laughs. "Then maybe my old man and your old lady can take after Harry and I. It'll be the love story of the century-"

Desmond lurches forward and Zayn holds him back.

Louis smirks.

Niall stays silent by his side.

"Get the fuck out of my office before I call security." Louis dismisses.

Desmond lays off Zayn and shakes his head. "Your problem is you've always been short-sighted, Louis. You have no idea what this all means for you."

"Listen." Louis lowers his voice. "I'm fucking sick and tired of people telling me what my problems are. I've achieved a great deal in my life on my own. You and your high horse can go fuck each other."

Desmond sneers. "You'll regret this day Louis. Especially if you don't think Harry will come for vengeance against you too."

" _Harry_..." Louis chuckles. "Couldn't give less of a shit about me. If only you saw our bidding each other adieu. He can't handle it here. He's like a little boy who got pushed off the swing set and went back to play in his sandbox. He wouldn't dare try and go toe to toe with me."

"He loves you." Desmond says roughly. "And I think you forget how crazy love can make a person."

The silence is broken by Desmond's shoes scuffing the carpet on their way out.

~~~


	55. Chapter 54

              
~~~

H

The thing Harry's discovered, is, it's incredibly difficult to do sudoku and crossword puzzles whilst milking cows.

It's also difficult to plan for the business on post it notes whilst mending fences.

Doing checkups on the calves is difficult with a book in the other hand.

So he got creative and downloaded French lessons to his phone.

He's logged about 47 hours so far and he's been home less than a week.

It works well because he can pop an ear bud in and do just about anything. It's something to keep his brain busy and keep his mind off of his hands that continually bleed, despite his continued bandaging of them.

By next week, he presumes they'll fix themselves up and get on board with the program. He's offended his callouses have let him down considering it's only been four months.

Really though, the four months have felt four years.

Harry still hasn't felt in sync with his ranch the way he used to. Oddly enough, though, listening to French has helped him. He just needs some damn socks now.

He's pretty sure he broke his toe yesterday when Douglas kicked him down. Harry's boot happened to slide right off, and at Douglas's second kick, his toe snapped. The ibuprofen has been doing the trick; but it drives him batshit crazy that his broken toe keeps popping out of his sock hole.

Going back to the store just doesn't seem like a great option though. He couldn't even make it to check out without an incident and a viral video.

Well, he assumes it went viral. His phone is still in airplane mode, and he intends to keep it that way.

Which reminds him, if he wants to catch up with Mona, he's going to need to go over to her house. He assumes she's been trying to get a hold of him without luck... which, unfortunately, makes him a bigger dick since telling her he wanted to catch up several days ago.

His horse, Paco, startles at something. Harry sets his knife down and can hear dried alfalfa crunching. He knows his mom and step-dad never bother him after the sun sets and Paco never panics when his stall-mates approach.

Harry's guess is either a coyote or some sort of stalker. The cold winter pushes the coyotes closer to the ranch every season, and since he's moved the chicken coop into the pasture, they've had less incidents, but the coyotes have been getting braver too.

He pulls his Kimber out of it's holster and takes the safety off. He lightly creeps along the barn wall closer to Paco. He squints when the crunches get heavier. They sound more like a moose rather than coyote.

As he reaches where the stall opens up to the outside pasture, he pokes his head around and doesn't see a coyote. He sees Mona.

He lets out a huge sigh, clicks his safety back on, and puts the gun back in his holster.

"Christ Mona. Don't you know better than to sneak up on a man in his barn?" Harry tucks a loose curl behind his head.

"You tellin' me you even 'member how to shoot that thing?" She smirks and motions to his gun.

"You know I could still outshoot you any day." He smiles and walks up to hug her.

She gives him a friendly slap on the back. "I dunno, ya'll've changed so much."

Harry shrugs. "Doesn't really feel like it... except when it comes to my damn hands."

He holds them out to show her the damage. She holds them in her hands.

"Shit son, you done some damage." She tisks. "Tell me what ya'll need help with. You need a break."

"Shipment of horse alfalfa came today. I was just bucking it all in and pulling the old ones to the front." He sticks a thumb back to the pile of food in the barn.

"Ah that twine will get ya. Here," she starts walking into the barn, "if yer pride won't let you put on some gloves, let me at least buck the rest for you."

Harry follows her in and decides on cleaning while she throws the 130 lb. bales in a neat formation.

"How's the ranch been?" Mona asks.

"Well, I moved all the cattle feed to E the other day with the Deere. Barn D was overrun with rats and there was shit all over the food. Had to throw half the moldy and infected ones out. I did most of the cleaning there today, but have to wait till the suns up to hose the place down. It's a shit show. I had to put most of the cattle in A and B because C has too many pregnant cows." Harry throws a pile of twine into the garbage.

"I wasn't talkin' 'bout ranch life." Mona rolls her eyes. "I was talkin' 'bout bein' back."

"Oh." Harry pauses.

He looks at his feet and pretends to not notice his toe sticking through his sock again. His Wranglers are ripped to pieces at the ends of the pant legs and he can't remember when he bought this pair. The leather on his belt is so worn on either side from where he keeps his gun and knife holsters. His shirt fits funny and his Carhartt doesn't seem as warm and comforting as it once did.

He pushes the stray lock of hair off his face again. "It's different. I notice different things now."

"Like what?" Mona chuckles. "That ya'll are too fancy for us now?"

Harry furrows his brows. "No. I'm not."

"Then what do ya'll notice?" Mona grunts as she tosses the last bale of hay. "And what do ya'll still need done?"

Harry checks his phone. "It's nearly 11. Just need to lock the chickens up."

She nods. "Let's get it done then."

They make their way over to the coop and Harry reflects on how he wants to answer.

"I guess I just never had anything to compare ranch life to, and now I do." Harry simplifies.

Mona locks up the gates and coop. "Go on."

"Well New York is fucking weird, that's for god damned sure." He lets out half a laugh. "God knows that life's not normal for any human."

"You know what mama said to me the first time we saw your face on the magazine at Walmart?" Mona says.

Harry shakes his head. Mona's mom has always been extremely fond of Harry, so he hopes it's nothing too negative.

"She said ya'll have never looked so much like your dad." Mona raises her eyebrows. "She said ya'll looked more at home in that stupid suit than you ever have here."

As they pass the vinyl fencing, Harry kicks it so hard that the plastic caves in on itself and creates a little hole.

"That's fucking bullshit Mona!" He faces her. "Fucking everybody is getting off telling me where I look like I belong and I'll tell you right now I never felt at home in New York! I feel at home when I'm on a horse, herding cattle, and bucking the fucking hay bales!"

She gives a slight shake of her head. "Look, I ain't here to make you angry. I'm just sayin' we all don't understand. So you gotta give us a minute to get used to it."

"Get used to what? What don't you understand?" Harry asks in exasperation.

"Harry." She huffs. "You're not even the same person we ever known. You changed so much. And it's... weird seein' you and talkin' to you now. We don't get why you came back and we're all adjustin' to this whole... new Harry." She motions up and down.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He mimics her motions. "I look the exact same. I feel exactly the same. I act the fucking same."

She shakes her head. "Nah Harry. You sound like ya'll went to college and back in the four months you been gone. Ya'll act... confident." She laughs a little. "Shit, I never heard you speak up for yourself or defend yourself or anything like you have tonight and back and Smithy's."

Harry really wishes he understood what she was saying. He shakes his head and wishes he could fix whatever is making him look 'different' and go back to just being normal.

"And ya'll have a Yorker accent now." She chuckles.

"I do  _not_." Harry demands with a smile.

"'I do not.'" She repeats with a horrible British accent.

"Jesus, that wasn't even New York! You're on the wrong continent entirely." Harry pokes her.

"The wrong continent entirely?" She continues with the British accent and pokes him back. "Sorry, you just sound  _way_  too proper to be from Kentucky! And you pronounce all your t's now!"

"Come here, you." Harry scoops her up as she yelps and he throws her over his shoulder. "You're just being an asshole now."

She laughs. "Least I'm not the one with the accent."

Harry rolls his eyes as he carries her into his mobile home. They have a lot of catching up to do.

~~~

L

Louis taps his fingers on the keyboard to his computer. Why is the one making this power point presentation? Surely Zayn or his secretary could be doing it. He has a lunch meeting with a Korean executive in an hour and he really doesn't have time for power points.

He sighs as he clicks which transition he wants between slides and copies and pastes media files and hyperlinks onto each slide.

Email notifications keep popping up in the corner of his screen and it's annoying the fuck out of him. He slides his mouse over to make the notifications turn off for the next hour, when the next pop up catches his eye.

It's from Damon Lawson.

Louis clicks on it.

**Dear Mr. Tomlinson,**

**It's been a while since we've spoken. I wanted to personally extend an invite for you to attend my next workshop. Devry mentioned you may be interested. I hope all is going well with you.**

**Warm regards,**

**D. Lawson.**

Louis runs his index finger along his bottom lip. It's been a while since he's been invited to SCNTM and even longer since he's been a Dom demonstrator there.

The fact that Damon mentioned Devry is the part that is the most odd.

What is the missing piece?

He texts Devry.

**What exactly are you trying to accomplish?**

He gets an auto reply from Devry.

**Sorry I've missed you! I'm out of service and currently fishing. I'll respond to you as soon as I'm back in range.**

Louis rolls his eyes. Devry and his fucking fishing.

He goes back to his power point for a couple of minutes before paging Hekla, the new secretary, to bring him lunch. She responds quickly with her Icelandic accent, and Louis knows it's as good as done.

His phone startles him with a text notification. Looks like Devry was closer to service than Louis thought.

**When's the last time you had your face covered, the world not knowing or caring who you were, and listening to someone other than yourself?**

"Ha!" Louis throws his phone on the desk and stands up, forcing his chair back behind him. "What a fucking joke."

The door opens and Hekla enters with delicious smelling food. "Sorry, what was that Mr. Tomlinson?"

"Nothing." He takes the food from her. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." She nods, then exits the room.

He adjusts his cuff links before he starts pacing.

Devry wasn't kidding about telling him he needs to submit. Louis thinks it's over the top though. Surely he doesn't need to go into role reversal simply to figure his shit out. He's been a Dom for too long now. He hasn't subbed in years.

Not to fucking mention there's no one he'd let take charge of a scene. Well, except for Damon and Devry. But, God, it's just been too long.

Furthermore, he will not be on demo for a hundred people. He just... doesn't want to. He can't. He won't.

He calls Niall. Niall answers immediately.

"Can this wait?" Niall clips.

"I don't know what to do." Louis rests his forehead against his white office wall.

"About?" Niall speaks shortly to him and mutters something to someone else on his end of the line.

"Devry wants me to sub at Damon's next event." Louis says through clenched teeth.

"Like, he wants you to teach the class for him?" Niall sounds slightly more invested in their conversation.

"No you idiot." Louis huffs. "Like... sub... with a mask on, tied up in front of a crowd of people."

"Oh." Niall states. "Why don't you know what to do? I thought you were strictly on the other end of things now."

"Devry thinks I need to do it for self-discovery improvement bullshit reasons." Louis turns to rest his back against the wall.

"Well obviously you're considering it pretty heavily if you had to call me about it." Niall says.

"I can't." Louis says shortly.

"Why not?" Niall asks. "Don't you trust those guys?"

"I just- fuck." Louis covers his eyes with his other hands. "I'm fucking embarrassed to. It's been years."

"So practice first." Niall says simply.

"I  _don't_  want it to be a multiple incident thing." Louis top lip curls up. "And I don't want them talking to each other about it."

"So find someone else." Niall suggests like it's that easy. "Go to one of your clubs or have Zayn do it or something."

"Ha!" Louis knocks on the wall behind him for no reason. "Right."

"Listen, I really have to go, but I think it sounds like you need to do it, or whatever is eating you up is going to take over and then you'll self destruct. You're doing your pattern again." Niall says.

"Thanks man." Louis lets him go.

When they hang up, he rests his phone against his head. Why does he feel like he needs to do this anyway? What's the purpose?

There isn't one, which is why he doesn't want to do it.

Except, he thinks, maybe that's why he needs to.

He's been trying to find his purpose. Subbing certainly helped him along with that many years ago.

So maybe he just needs to sub once a decade to set him back on course? Would it really be that bad?

He pinches the bridge of his nose. He's getting into deep water here. He's just been so focused on everything to do with Metal Core in the last two years. He's lost sight of his lifestyle and what keeps him disciplined. He's fucked over his previous sub, and now Harry. He can't keep pretending that he's a Dominant when he's been acting like a part-time, amateur hobbyist.

"God damn it." He mutters to himself.

~~~


	56. Chapter 55

A/N: Whoo! Look at me getting my life back in order ;). I'm so happy to be getting better with my writing and updates again. I'll be in California and Iceland the next two weeks on vacation, so I'm hopeful to continue with my writing consistency :)

Thank you, as always, for reading. Remember you can connect with me for more updates (or warnings for when I'll be updating ^_^) etc. via my Twitter.

-Dannie Ybarra

~~~

 

L

There's a knock on Louis' office door.

"Come in." He mutters from his new spot against the wall on his floor.

Zayn opens the door and assesses the situation carefully. Louis tries not to think about the last time Zayn saw him on the floor in Brazil.

He smartly locks the door behind him and calmly approaches Louis. "Yes Mr. Tomlinson?"

"Sit down." Louis pats the spot next to him.

"Should I have Hekla bring some scotch?" Zayn offers lightly.

"No." Louis stares at the window at the other side of his office.

After a few beats of silence, Zayn replies, "Okay."

Louis doesn't move. He doesn't speak. He doesn't even know how to approach the situation.

He supposes he should keep it simple and ambiguous at first. Then lead him into the details. He'll offer the option for a 'no' up front to increase the likelihood of Zayn saying yes at the end.

"I think I may need your help with something." Louis says.

"Okay." Zayn says simply.

"It's okay if you say no, especially considering I don't know your situation, but I thought I'd ask you anyway." Louis bends a knee and rests an arm on it.

Zayn stays silent.

Louis breathes out slowly. "I've been asked to do a demonstration in front of some people. You could say I'm having... a bit of stage fright. I'm looking for someone to help me practice beforehand."

Zayn's poker face is phenomenal. Louis doesn't see a trace of confusion or urgency. He decides Zayn may be one of the most patient men he knows.

"What company are you doing the demonstration for?" He asks calmly.

"SNCTM." Louis tries not to make it a whisper. "It's... been a lot of years."

Zayn gives one, very slow, nod. "I'll need some more specifics before I present this to Gigi."

"Right." Louis says gradually. "I've been invited to be part of a demo which one of my associates will be leading. I feel it's important for me to accept this position due to my desire for personal growth."

Zayn looks out the window too. "I understand that."

"I don't feel comfortable jumping into that without a precursory trial run. I feel like you may work best for the dynamics of the situation." He rubs his thumb along his pant hemline. "I'm not sure what I want or need or anything at all yet. I just need to know if I should find other arrangements for my trial run."

"I can get back to you within the hour." Zayn says softly. "I need to make a phone call."

~~~

H

The light peeps through Harry's foiled window and he wonders why his bed feels bigger than normal.

He certainly fell asleep with Mona splayed all over him. She's the biggest bed hog, but luckily she didn't shove Harry onto the floor last night.

When he opens his eyes, he realizes he shouldn't see sun peeking through his window, and he's overslept. He checks his phone to see why his alarms didn't go off, and listens for someone in the living room. He doesn't even hear his parents.

He stumbles out of the house, still fully dressed from last night, and slips his boots on. The chickens are clucking around the pasture, and the other animals are out of their stalls and grazing.

He doesn't find Mona in the barn closest to the house, so he jogs to the other cattle barns. His phone tells him it's around nine in the morning.

He finds that the cattle in barns A-C have all been fed and milked, and when he gets to D, he sees the cement flooring is sopping wet.

As he approaches closer, he hears people chatting, and the sound of his hose spraying against the barn walls. He recognizes both voices.

Both Mona and Grady are cleaning the entire pavilion and it looks nearly spotless.

"What are you guys doing?" Harry blinks.

"Takin' care of this rat infestation." Grady points his scrub brush to the pile of manure they've scooped out of the barn. "Ya'll gonna keep standin' there like a lazy ass, or get to workin'?"

Harry smiles and grabs a broom. Mona gives him a short spray of water to his boots and Harry laughs.

"Are E and F already fed?" He asks.

"Done before dawn." Grady says.

"I been fillin' him in... I hope you don't mind." Mona says.

Harry looks cautiously over to Grady. "Exactly how much have you filled him in?"

"Enough to know Louis' an asshole who don't appreciate you. And yer dad is a fucking prick. Also I dunno who Niall thinks he is, but I don't like him either." Grady says. "Liam and Adrien seem like the only nice people you met since leavin'."

"So just about everything?" Harry says a little disappointed.

"You been learnin' French and traveled the world. You own fancy things and have women throwing themselves at yer feet. Yer callouses are gone and you don't gotta do manual labor. Why the fuck did you try to drown in a tub and drink yourself to death?" Grady asks.

Harry sighs. He really didn't want to start the morning off this heavily. He just wants things to go back to the way they were.

"It was complicated." Harry still doesn't really understand that part of things. "Louis, is complicated."

"Sure sounds like it." Grady says.

"Look, guys, can we not talk about this right now? I just want to work." Harry says.

"Of course." Mona says. "You can talk to us though, ya know. We're here for you."

"Thanks." Harry says.

"Or should I say 'we're here for you  _Haz_?'" Mona sprays in his direction.

Harry can't help himself from smiling. "Now look who's speaking properly, Miss Pilkington."

Mona does an exaggerated Texas accent. "Naw, surely you ain't talkin' 'bout lil' 'ol me."

"Fucking Haz." Grady mutters to himself. "Can we stop with the weird names and shit? And I though you told me I couldn't say shit 'bout his accent."

"You can't." Mona confirms. "I can."

"Anyway... what's been new around here?" Harry grabs another brush to start cleaning manure off the stall railings.

"Same 'ol, same 'ol." Grady says. "Dave 'n Katie finally got hitched."

"Ah shit, we saw that coming from miles away though." Harry laughs to himself. They had been dating since Middle School, after all.

"Mona and Taylor finally kissed." Grady says slyly.

Harry's mouth drops open the same time Mona sprays him with the hose and yells, "you bitch!"

"Mona! When the fuck did you think it would be pertinent to share this information with me?" He exclaims.

"Psh, it only happened a couple weeks back." Mona finishes up with the hose and coils it back on it's rack. "Was just a peck anyways."

"Says you." Grady snickers. "Taylor didn't shut up 'bout it to the whole gang."

"What did he say?" Mona tries to play it cool.

"Well, we was at the Shootin' Star Saloon on Saturday." Grady pulls out a pack of chew and passes it to Harry. " _He_  says you kiss like you know what yer doin'."

Harry pops a dip into his lip. The flavor catches him off guard, as it's been months since his tastebuds have felt the bitter bite of nicotine.

Harry finds it's harder to annunciate with his lip packed. "Now that's odd, considering you've only kissed a handful of people."

"I just make sure if Imma do something... Imma do it right." She smirks.

"That mean we're gonna hear all about yer fuckin' next Saturday?" Grady groans.

"Nah. I ain't gonna fuck 'im. Uses too much tongue for me anywho." Mona brushes herself off.

"Too much tongue isn't always a bad thing." Harry smiles devilishly.

Grady looks affronted and Mona laughs.

"I heard more 'bout your sex life last night than I heard from all my friends put together here." Mona rolls her eyes.

Harry doesn't bother hiding his smile. He kind of likes having experiences that his friends don't. There's still so much more he could have told Mona; while he gave her many summaries of scenes, the details are what she'd never understand.

He just can't believe he only knew sex with Grady before meeting Louis. It's two completely different worlds.

He wonders if Grady has ever had sex with someone like Louis.

"Yeah." Grady adds without enthusiasm. "Not interested."

Harry spits black saliva into the dirt. "Then tell us about yours Grady. You been fucking anyone good lately?"

"No one memorable. Couple of the local sluts." Grady shrugs.

Harry smiles a little sadly. He wonders if he'll ever have the sexual depth he had with Louis with anyone else. He doesn't think so.

"'Nuff talkin'." Mona commands. "We got some rat traps to set."

Harry sighs. Just when he thought his hands couldn't get any worse. If only his heart could heal as quickly as his hands will.

It's no matter, he thinks. It won't be long until he hardly notices it anymore.

~~~

L

Louis and Zayn sit side by side and stare at a paper on his desk.

For some reason, it's the most comfortable he's felt since considering the whole idea. He wonders if it will keep getting easier from here.

"What would you like me to fill in this blank with?" Zayn asks.

"Zayn." Louis states.

"Yes?" Zayn looks to him.

"No, that's what I'd like you to fill in the blank with." Louis says.

"'The submissive will refer to the dominant as Zayn.'" Zayn repeats back.

"Yes." Louis emphasizes. "Zayn."

"Very well." Zayn doesn't bother arguing it further.

Louis waits patiently while Zayn fills out some more of the information listing the length, terms, and conditions of their temporary contract.

"Alright you're up." Zayn slides him the page where Louis marks his reds, yellows, and greens.

Louis nods, then continues to stare at the paper. "I don't know."

"You don't know your limits?" Zayn asks.

Louis sets the pen down. "This is really hard for me, Zayn. I need you to pretend like I've never done this before please."

Zayn nods once. "Close your eyes for me then."

Louis has no fucking clue why he's supposed to, but he does.

Zayn speaks calmly. "We don't know how our scene is going to go, and that's okay. We don't know how long it's going to go for or what it may or may not include."

Louis breathes out. It's already helpful to not have to look around at his office during this.

"What we do know," Zayn continues, "is that this will be a positive learning experience for us both. So, I'm going to read off some options for us. I've already mentally marked which ones I'm uncomfortable with. I'll read off the remaining ones to you, and I want you to mentally visualize those things happening with us. You can take as much time as you'd like."

Louis nods.

"Don't open until I tell you to." Zayn says gently.

Louis already feels himself relaxing more. "Alright then."

He hears Zayn pick the pen back up and tap it against a point. "Spanking."

Thousands of images rush through Louis' mind of assess he's spanked; of all the subs who have given up themselves for him; of all the adrenaline and dopamine rush that accompanied both him and his subs. The trust and the pleasure and the escalation of the memories give him chills.

But, Louis thinks, he needs to clear his mind of that. He could be distracted for hours with his experiences as a Dom.

So instead, he decides to imagine himself in a neutral room. A playroom that only him and Zayn exist in. It's easy to see himself and Zayn sitting in a room next to each other.

He unclasps his hands to relax more.

His imaginary Zayn looks at him with understanding, and it's easy to feel comfortable taking the next step.

With clothes off, he imagines himself getting on hands and knees and Zayn spanking him.

It's not sexual. But it's slow and deliberate. It's for a purpose.

And Louis feels comfortable with it

With a twitch of his brow, he responds to Zayn. "Green."

Zayn scratches something on the paper, then moves to the next. "Paddling."

That one is an easy segue for Louis. "Green."

"Flogging." Zayn says.

Louis squints to himself and consults his imaginary scenario. Zayn has a flogger in his hand and Louis' hands are tied above his head.

Does he trust Zayn with flogging? He gives himself a quick nod in response. Realizing he trusts Zayn's skills with Domming, he checks if it's in line with helping him achieve his purpose.

"Green." Louis responds.

"Whipping?" Zayn asks.

"Green." Louis says.

"Shibari or other rope work?" Zayn asks.

Louis' lip quirks into half a smile. He's already visualized that without trying when he consulted the flogging question. "Green."

Zayn marks something and then continues on. "Suspension?"

Hmm. Louis revisits the neutral room.

Rope work is good. Heights are fine by him. Zayn's skill isn't in question.

He bites at his lip as he imagines being lifted up in a position from which he can't change.

It's not the physical demands that bother him either. It's the total loss of control; which is the entire purpose behind this.

"Yellow." Louis says. "But I think we need to work with that one specifically."

"Wonderful." Zayn says lightly.

Louis clasps his hands in his lap and hopes he's not fucking this all up.

As they continue through the rest of their limits, Louis makes a mental note that Zayn isn't comfortable with making Louis do anything humiliating. Zayn also skipped over the option of degrading names and face slapping. Louis wonders if that's because he's his boss or for a different reason.

He wonders if it matters.

Toward the end of the list, they've specified that neither of them wants to get into any type of intense role play. Louis feels that the submission should come from his authentic self rather than a role he gets to step into.

"That gets us to the end of the list, but I do have a couple of yellows I'd like to revisit." Zayn adjusts his shirt. "You've been doing well at keeping your eyes closed. We'll only be another minute."

Louis fiddles with his thumbs.

"I've marked kissing, giving oral, and any penetration as yellows for me. They're up for negotiation, but I'd like your thoughts please." Zayn says levelly.

Caught completely off guard, Louis wonders how the hell he forgot about the basics. He supposes it's because he's never been good at being basic.

"Oh um," Louis frowns, "hang on."

Back into his not-so-neutral imaginary room that's now adorned with an assortment of possibilities, Louis thinks about himself and Zayn kissing.

And fuck, there's definitely a hot chill that zings from his toes to his nose.

Thinking next to Zayn sucking on his cock...

He uses his hand to put pressure between his legs. His dick wholeheartedly likes the idea.

At this point, Louis knows his feelings on things further, and doesn't bother checking in.

He'll just file that fantasy away for another day and time.

Louis clears his throat. "While I don't dislike the idea... at all... I think it may detract from our overall purpose."

"Wonderful. You've echoed my thoughts verbatim." Zayn says. "You may open your eyes."

When Louis opens his eyes, it's not like his office looks different. It's not like the world has magically changed around him.

Zayn looks the same too. The energy feels different between them, though.

It's not sexual, nor is it intimate. Yes, he feels a deeper trust, and yes there's been an acknowledgment of their attraction to each other. More than either of those, though, is respect. Louis feels equal respect given to and received from Zayn.

He thinks that's something he hasn't felt in a really long time.

Zayn makes a couple more notes on their contract, then signs it. The scratching of the pen feels like it should be an iconic moment of some sort, but it just fills the silence of the room.

Zayn slides the contract for Louis to sign. Louis looks at the blank space next to 'sub' where his name is about to go.

He takes the pen from Zayn and signs along the dotted line. There's a soft tap of the pen against the desk as he sets it down.

"Would you like me to stay for a minute, or would you prefer me to go?" Zayn checks in.

Louis smiles. "I would very much like you to get back to your fucking job and stop wasting my company's money by sitting on your ass any longer."

Zayn smiles knowingly back. "My apologies Mr. Tomlinson."

Zayn removes himself from beside Louis and exits the office.

Louis can't stop smiling. He feels good about himself. He feels good about his progress. Zayn did a fantastic job, and Louis may actually have a shot at this.

It feels different- trying to step into that sub mindset- this time around. Maybe it's because of who it's with, or maybe it's because he's changed so damn much.

He wonders if all his subs go through this same type of mental re-working. He wonders if he ever does a half decent job at helping them through it. He wonders how thoroughly he's fucked over some subs by being irresponsible.

Louis sighs. Just when he thought his remorse couldn't get any worse.

It's no matter, he thinks. His healing process has begun, and it won't be long until he hardly notices it anymore.

~~~


	57. Chapter 56

 

A/N: I got the next couple of chapters written whilst in Iceland :D I can't wait to share them with you guys. I absolutely love sharing my writing with you and appreciate every time you comment, favorite, or simply read my stories.

You guys really are the best! I'm the lucky one <3

Enjoy!

-Dannie Ybarra

~~~

Harry is sitting at the small kitchen table while his mom and Robert watch the Nascar reruns. He has his French lessons blaring through his earphones to block out the noise and sips on an iced tea while going over the new budgets for the farm.

It's been a little over a week and Harry looks forward to spending Christmas and New Years with Grady and Mona. His phone is still off, but he's been using the landline to communicate back and forth with his friends. Since being here, he's helped out on their properties as well.

Mona's family farms alfalfa, and Grady's breeds rodeo bulls and horses. Harry's always happy that he's a dairy farmer. He just understands cattle.

He presses the home button to his phone and Carley pops up on the background screen. There's a branch of alfalfa sticking out the side of her mouth and it makes Harry smile. She's always been special to Harry, as she was the first cow he ever helped birth a calf. If there's one regret in life, it's that he didn't keep that calf. At only nine years old, Robert told Harry he had to sell it for the business, and there wasn't much he could do to change that.

Carly looks at him from his screen, and he thinks about how he promised Adrien a picture of her. Harry wonders how many other emails he's received from him and wonders how big of an asshole Adrien must think he is.

He wonders how Adrien's visit to his mother went, and if he will still be in New York for New Years.

He wonders if Adrien will still be his friend even if he's not the CEO-to-be for Roots.

Not that it matters much, he thinks. He'll never be able to make it back to France on his paychecks as a farmer.

"Harry!" Robert yells.

"Oui?" Harry says.

He frowns.

"What?" Harry corrects himself.

"Get the fucking door." Robert repeats.

Harry pauses his French lessons and pops his earbuds out. He glances at the clock on the oven to see that it's 10:15 at night. Did he miss a call from Mona or Grady?

Maybe it's an emergency over at their properties. He was at a good stopping point anyway.

When the screen door squeaks open and he pushes the plastic door open, he sees blood red Oxfords standing on the Astroturf door mat. Before his eyes make it up to meet his father's, he has his Colt out, safety off, and pointed at the ground.

"I swear to God I will shoot you if you lay your hands on my mom." Harry seethes.

Desmond puts his hands up. "I'm not here for Anne."

Harry immediately puts his safety back on and holsters his gun. "I'm not going back with you either."

"Harry, can I come in and talk?" Desmond asks.

"I suggest you leave my property. You're not welcome here." Harry says.

"It's just me." Desmond says like he's already given up.

Anne and Robert have since gathered behind Harry and watch the scene silently.

"What do you want?" Harry asks, exasperated.

"I have cancer, Harry." Desmond states.

Harry hears the cool breeze push against the mobile home's outside walls. He stares at his father, then turns to his mother and step-dad. Robert didn't know, but Anne did; he can see it in their eyes. She stands stoically next to Robert, and Robert shakes his head with a disgusted face.

Harry lifts his brows and ushers Desmond in.

"Would you like a beer?" Harry asks rhetorically.

"Sure." Desmond takes everyone by surprise.

"We'll just..." Anne trails off as her and Robert resume their positions on the recliners 10 feet away. The volume is turned up a few notches to give a semblance of privacy to Desmond and Harry.

Harry grabs a PBR from the fridge and sets it on the table for Desmond. They both take a seat and look at each other in silence.

Desmond assesses the small kitchen table filled with dozens of papers Harry's scribbled out the farm's business planning on, his phone which is lit up on the pause screen of French 101, and a pile of newspapers with all the crossword puzzles filled out.

Desmond cracks his beer open.

"When did you find out?" Harry asks blandly.

"Beginning of this year." Desmond takes a sip of his drink.

"What kind?" Harry asks.

"Pancreatic." Desmond says.

Harry nods once. He really only learned about pancreatic cancer when a celebrity passed away and everyone at the office talked about it all week. He knows it's untreatable- even to the wealthiest people.

"How long do you have?" Harry asks.

Desmond shrugs. "Could be a couple months... could be a year or two."

"I know you're my father who abused then abandoned my mother and me my whole life then blackmailed me to take over your company and all that, so not to sound like a dick, but why does this affect me?" Harry wishes he had less of a pang when saying those words.

"I want you to have a better life than I did, Harry." Desmond says.

"I do." Harry says. "I'm happy and don't beat children or women and I don't abandon those who rely on me. That sounds like a much better life than yours."

"I've made so many mistakes with my life." Desmond sighs and runs his hand through his hair, making some of the slicked back strands fall to his forehead. "What I did to you and your mom was wrong. I was only thinking of myself at the time... shit, I must have been right around your age when I moved to New York. I wasn't ready for a kid or a wife."

Harry leans in on his elbows. "Clearly, as shown by your every act of selfishness that inflicted harm and neglect on your family."

"I'm trying here, Harry." Desmond shakes his head. "I never got to know you like I should... but you need to know I always loved you and your mom the best I knew how. I-I was the first person your mom called when-"

"I  _know_." Harry stresses. "I don't care about your excuses, Desmond."

Desmond's bites his lip and a look of pain crosses his face. "Harry..."

Harry lets the angry silence sit.

"What-" Desmond stumbles, "-what do you need from me, Harry?"

"Fuck." Harry runs a hand through his hair. "I need-" his voice cracks, "I need you to fucking...  _apologize_!" He feels his eyes get hot. "I need you to apologize for hitting my mom- my  _mother_." He wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. "For leaving her alone in this freezing and dirty hell hole and claiming to love her. For leaving me and making me run this  _fucking_  farm my entire life." Harry points to himself. "For  _beating_  me!"

Harry puts his face in his hands for a moment to calm down. Desmond doesn't say anything. He knows Harry isn't finished.

Harry takes a breath and then starts again. "I broke my first finger setting mouse traps when I was 5. I birthed my first calf by myself when I was 9. I was bucking 50 pound hay bales at 10. I learned how to trade tractors and cattle and repair fences at 11. I was dealing with asshole customers and distributors at 14. I worked this ranch and I worked at the Mercantile and I lived off of 4 hours of sleep every  _god damned_  night of my life as a child and teenager. I did this  _alone_. You weren't fucking there."

"I know." Desmond says softly.

"There's nothing you can do to fix my life. Handing me a billion-dollar company doesn't fix my problems." Harry laughs in spite of himself. "It doesn't fix that I had an abusive boyfriend for years and have severe intimacy problems. It won't fix me being gay."

"I wish I was there to help you through that, but I didn't know how." Desmond says.

Harry puts his hand on the table and speaks firmly. "You don't get to say that."

"I wished I was Harry." Desmond says again.

Harry's lip curls up. "You don't have the right-"

"Damn it son!" Desmond whacks his beer can off the table. "I-" he stutters over a sob, "I wish  _every_  waking moment of my life I didn't fuck things up the way I did with you. I'm still fucking it up and I still don't know how to be a good father, and  _that_ , is the thing I will always hate myself the most for. Nothing I can do will ever be good enough to repair the damage- I... I've just fucked everything up too badly."

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to hold his tears back. It's unfair- it's  _so_  unfair that his father gets to do this to him now. He wasn't there for the years and years of strife and hard work; for the good, the bad, or the ugly. It's unfair that he gets to waltz in and fucking apologize and throw the burden onto Harry.

"It's so fucking unfair." Harry says through clenched teeth. "I hate you so much."

"I know you do." Desmond says with another sniffle. "You should."

"Fuck!" Harry kicks his chair back and leaves the house.

The pallets laying at the side of the house are next to an old shed. Harry picks up a pallet and smashes it into the side of the shed until it's nothing but a stick in his hand. He throws it at the ground and picks up the next pallet.

With multiple slivers in his hands and blood bursting from his calluses and knuckles again, he beats up the side of the old shed with the pallet until its nothing but some sticks.

"Fuck!" He screams at the dark void surrounding him.

He hears the door squeak open, and Harry grabs another pallet to smash against the shed, while Desmond sits on an old log several feet away from him.

The snapping of the pallet sings to Harry's ears. A panel from the old shed falls off as Harry bashes a corner into it.

"Fuck this place!" Harry yells at the shed, then turns around to face his father. "Fuck this hell you've burdened me with! Fuck these lives you've forced me to live!"

His voice is hoarse and he throws what remains of the pallet off to the side. A cow moos in the distance and it bounces off the trees scattered through the property.

Desmond keeps his hands clasped together and covering his nose. He pinches his thumbs together. He opens his mouth to only let out a shaky breath that shows in fog against the freezing night.

"I'm glad you're dying." Harry whispers through his cracked voice. "Men like you deserve it."

Desmond nods. "I know I do."

Harry presses a hand to his forehead. "I don't-" he inhales, "I don't know what to do."

"Me neither." Desmond says softly.

"Fuck." Harry breathes out and kicks a pallet to the side on his way to sit next to Desmond.

"What do you want to do?" Desmond asks.

"I-" Harry rubs his temples. "I have no fucking clue." His voice cracks.

"Are you happy here?" Desmond asks sincerely. "Truly?"

Harry shakes his head. "I don't know what happiness is anymore."

"Happiness is what gives you purpose." Desmond says. "What gives you purpose?"

"I don't know." Harry tucks a curl behind his ear. "I love the nature of what I do here but I... I'm fucking  _bored_."

Saying it out loud for the first time is...

Relieving.

"I know exactly how you feel." Desmond gives a short laugh.

"And New York is just... it's too much for me." Harry admits. "I can't live that life."

"I threw you into the thick of it too fast." Desmond says. "I thought by immersing you into the lifestyle, you'd assimilate quickly and never want to come back."

"All of that aside," Harry bites his lip, "I can't work against Louis the rest of my life. I just... can't."

Desmond doesn't try to argue it. "We can find a different spot for you- one that doesn't involve any interaction with him or his company."

Harry finds himself nodding. He knows that's true.

"We can get this outfit set up right." Desmond says. "Get a good hand living on the property and running the cattle like you know they should be."

"And what?" Harry gives the idea half a thought with a laugh. "I run this business while working in New York?"

"Yes." Desmond says completely serious. "Come out here quarterly, do quality assurance checks, and require daily or weekly communication from the head of the ranch. You remember Mr. Pierre, yes?"

Harry blushes. It's odd to remember that his father has met Adrien too. "Yes."

"I gave you dozens of pamphlets on his companies. He remotely runs one in Vienna and Oslo." Desmond says.

"I thought he was an investor." Harry quirks a brow.

"Jesus what did you two even speak about?" Desmond mirrors Harry's face.

They both stare at each other and Harry decides it's best to not speak.

Desmond blinks twice and looks away when a flash of understanding crosses his face. "Anyway, he is a man of many interests." He clears his throat.

"How easy is it for you to know if guys are gay?" Harry abruptly decides to ask.

Desmond coughs. "Excuse me?"

"Like, how long did you have to work with Louis before figuring it out?" Harry suddenly feels immensely interested in this information. "How badly does it bother you?"

"Um, I don't-" Desmond stops himself from excusing himself or changing topics. He takes a breath and barrels forward instead. "Everyone has always known about Louis' preferences. The stupid boy has been screaming it from the rooftops from the time he got hired on for minimum wage at Metal Core."

The pictures of a younger, eyeliner wearing Louis pop into Harry's mind. It's so odd to picture Louis working for minimum wage or in any kind of lesser position than CEO.

"And it... doesn't bother me." Desmond says almost as a question. "I find what he does absolutely disgusting- but- it's not my business what he does behind closed doors."

"Being 'absolutely disgusted' is far from it not bothering you." Harry says in defense.

"No- I meant..." Desmond gives half a laugh. "The thought of receiving anal penetration from a man is absolutely disgusting to me. I don't care if people choose to do it- I'm just saying I know I certainly wouldn't."

Harry finds his wording very... interesting. "So you've thought about it?"

Desmond laughs uncomfortably. "Is this conversation really necessary?"

"Yes." Harry says seriously.

With a sigh, Desmond wipes his forehead off. "There was a time..."

A smile creeps onto Harry's face. "Go on."

"I mean, I don't need to tell you- you  _know_ \- how often and easy it is to... obtain women." Desmond pauses. "Paired with my sabbatical of drugs, I found myself not enjoying things as much as I used to. And of course, spending as much time around Louis as I have-"

Harry interrupts loudly. " _Louis_? You've fucked around with  _Louis_?!"

"No!" Desmond exclaims. "Jesus Christ, no."

Harry breathes out a giant sigh of relief.

"All I'm saying is he's a very influential man who has the ability to make you consider things you wouldn't under normal circumstances." Desmond gets out quickly. "Nothing ever has, nor ever will happen in that... department."

"I get that." Harry laughs in spite of himself. "I always forget how much time you've spent around him. Was he always this way?"

Desmond considers that for a minute. "Money always changes a man. Louis went from an angry teenager, to an angry adult, to an asshole CEO. I don't know if you know this, but I knew him back when he was still a bell boy. I remember very vividly him and Niall running up and down the hallways of the hotel, hustling for tips. I was impressed with their dedication... they're two very memorable boys."

"Do they remember you from that too?" Harry asks.

 

"I'm sure they don't." Desmond says simply. "But I knew exactly who Niall was when he walked into my company for an interview. I made sure we hired him. As for Louis- when I caught wind that he worked for Metal Core, I kept a close eye on him. He's always had his purpose... with a junkie mom and a wrongfully framed father in prison, it's impossible for him to ever lose that. I watched that boy grow into what he is today."

Harry doesn't find humor in the irony. It feels more like a deadened bitterness. He sighs and decides its better to just leave that conversation alone. "So, did you know Adrien is gay too?"

"I know he enjoys the company of women." Desmond says carefully. "I also had my suspicions."

"Did that have any influence in your decision when sending me to France?" Harry asks.

"I tried not to think about it." Desmond says. "It was a business request, and I did my best to keep it that way."

"Does it bother you that I'm gay?" Harry asks.

Desmond clasps his hands together. "I hoped for you to be a better version of myself in every way... I would have preferred for that to look more like myself... but at the end of the day, you are the most honest between the two of us, which makes you a better version of me. So really, whether or not you're gay, you're better than I could have even hoped for you to turn out."

Harry smiles softly and finds a peace within himself he never knew was missing.

The crickets keep chirping on and on and they both settle into the space.

"Where are you staying tonight?" Harry asks.

Desmond shrugs. "I'm really not sure."

"You can have my bed and I can set up the tent in the barn." He suggests.

"I'll take the tent." Desmond says. "Been a while since I've been camping anyway."

"And what happens tomorrow?" Harry asks.

"That's up to you so-" Desmond cuts himself off from finishing 'son.' "You get to decide your path now."

Harry rests on his elbows. "And what if I want impossible things?"

"Nothing is impossible." Desmond says easily. "I can make anything happen for you."

"I want to remotely run the ranch." Harry says. "And I want to return to New York."

"Consider it done." Desmond sounds like he's holding back a great deal of elation.

"But I don't know that I'd be happy doing anything other than running Roots at this point. And I- I fucking hate you still- but I don't mind the idea of taking over your company." Harry says with a small chuckle to himself. "It's kind of like my birthright... or something."

"It is." Desmond confirms. "I've built both businesses so that you can choose whichever of the two you want. Or both."

Harry nods. "I'll figure out the Louis situation. I think that's mostly just the hurt talking. But in the mean time... it looks like we need to reform our board and Roots needs to do a bit of reinventing itself."

Desmond smiles. "It looks like we do."

~~~


	58. Author's Note

 

Sorry, it's not an update.... but I do have another update in the works for later week :D

I have a few things I want to update everyone on:

1) First and foremost, I wanted to take a moment to thank you guys so much for welcoming me back onto Wattpad with all the support in the world. I do my best to give back to you by giving you the best updates possible and updating in a (mostly) timely manner haha.

2) On the side I've been editing Fading Zen 1 (because it's an absolute trainwreck T-T) and it's about complete. Yes, I'm also finishing Finding Zen... that final chapter will be posted in the next month or two.

3) On Twitter and my profile here I sent out a survey for you to fill out. Thank you SO much to the 30 wonderful people who have helped me by filling that out. It's to help me figure out how to deliver my books to you the best, and here's some of what I've found:

3A) You all enjoyed the book very much, and it's changed some people's lives (PS I totally cried when I was reading that)  
3B) Most of you read on Wattpad daily, if not several times a week  
3C) Most of you have never purchased a book from Wattpad, or would purchase one only if it was the right book  
3D) Many of you noted that you didn't know you could purchase books from Wattpad- which, I don't believe you can, but you can track down where the author's sell their works (for instance, I sell mine through Amazon).

4) With all that awesome information (and some other stats too) I wanted to make sure that all of you know that I sell my books through Amazon! I currently have pulled them all off the market due to editing purposes, but I will let you know when they're available. I also print all of my books in Garamond to reduce printing costs and the environmental footprint ^_^ But... I want to know a few things from you guys again :D

4A) Which book would you prefer to purchase first?  
4B) Would you buy a book for your friend if I offered a 'gift' discount?  
4C) Would you be interested in an option of buying the books directly from me (via Venmo or Cash app) and having me sign the copy or write a personalized note then ship it to you?  
4D) And if you have any more input you'd like to add, please do so here :)

5) I think I should start calling you succulents because you are all sweet adorable 'lil humans.

I want you all to know again how incredible you are. I'm just a hairdressing Larry fanatic with a dream of being a professional writer. You guys have been able to make that become a possibility for me, and for that, I cannot thank you enough <3

-Dannie Ybarra


	59. Chapter 57

~~~

L

Since the occasion may call for it, Louis has gotten himself waxed.

He's always hated how much younger he looks without hair, but the thought of him being in precarious situations and looking some type of unkempt doesn't suit him much.

It's also what he used to do often when he was very first subbing. It helped with his confidence levels and became somewhat of a routine to help start getting him in the mindset. In Louis' time as a Dom, it's never once bothered him if his subs have had hair or not- as long as they were clean. But Louis likes to think of himself as a temporary sub with temporarily high standards for himself.

He shakes his head at himself. This has gotten his mentality all sorts of twisted.

It's been a mere couple days since he and Zayn went through their contract and Louis has been distracted any time he tries working.

Bringing his work home or staying at the office over the weekend has always been a way for him to de-stress. Exercising has always been a way for him to de-stress. Scenes have always been a way for him to de-stress, and all this upcoming one has done is create anxiety.

All he's found the last couple nights has been never ending fucking questions to himself about why he's doing what he's doing. And what if he doesn't find anything new? What if he finds he's just a void, dark person with a lot of failures under his belt?

"God." He mutters to himself and pushes his coffee to the side.

He's in some coffee shop, trying a change of scene. It's not helping either. He's too damn anxious for this thing with Zayn tonight.

He pulls his beanie farther down over his fluffy hair and his fingerless mittens farther over his hands to try and get warm. The stupid window he's sitting by has an unforgiving breeze.

The stupid half eaten pastry in front of him just sits there.

He looks to it for answers or some type of comfort and it just doesn't give him any.

It's not the type of anxiety that makes him want to binge eat. It's a different kind. It's the 'hurry up and get it over with' kind. It makes him wonder if this is what his subs always go through before scenes. Surely, it can't be. There isn't anything pleasurable about this.

Then again, subs are typically a bunch of masochists, so perhaps reveling in their anxiety is actually what they love. He can see the appeal... kind of. He knows there will be a release of emotions (and there may or may not be a sexual release in more traditional situation), so maybe it's nice to build it all up then release it.

He wonders if that's where Harry comes from with his mental masochism; if he doesn't know how else to let out the anxiety that builds up inside. He wonders how much of Harry's requested 'free pass punishments' were simply to help with anxiety and which ones were for his self-loathing.

Louis sighs.

As much as he's tried dismissing his responsibility and thoughts of Harry, the pangs have been persistent in reminding him what's transpired over the last several months.

He wonders how Harry is doing in Kentucky. He hasn't' seen any updates since the incident in the ranch store. Harry must be keeping a very low profile if there hasn't been anything else leaked. Louis wonders if he's had to deal with paparazzi sneaking around his property. Or maybe Harry's biggest concern right now is just dealing with Grady. There's no way that can be easy for him to handle.

Then again, Louis thinks Harry is also dealing with the repercussions from their relationship. It's not like he left New York on amicable terms with Louis. Maybe he's still angry.

Louis thinks that's probably best for both of them. An angry Harry, as Louis' come to find out, makes stupid decisions. Stupid choices like move back to a fucking farm and stay there.

He figures Harry will be a successful farmer the rest of his life and always hate Louis.

Louis certainly has his ever-growing club of haters. Many of which happen to be people he's had personal relationships with. Harry's just another member of the fan club now.

He rests his head against the wall and picks up his coffee to smell it.

The churning in his stomach has nothing to do with hunger.

He sets the coffee back down and reminds himself that it was all to get his father out of prison.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out to read the text from Zayn.

**Ready when you are.**

Louis' stomach settles as he requests a Lyft and leaves his coffee behind.

A quick text to Zayn letting him know he's on his way, and he wraps his arms around himself as he waits on the snowy curb. He isn't wearing anything that draws attention, and unfortunately, also feels the difference with his coat's insulation abilities.

It reminds him why he likes having nice things.

A white sedan pulls up to the curb and Louis has never been so happy to get into an 'economy' car.

He sidesteps all of the driver's well-intentioned small talk and rests his head against the headrest.

He wishes he could just shut his fucking brain off.

Out the window, they pass a couple kissing on the street corner and Louis looks the other way.

The ride is over and Louis double checks the name of the condo building and enters the high-rise.

The lobby is decent and unfamiliar. He quickly locates the elevator and smashes the 'up' button three times.

The notch above the doors descends with the elevator, and when the metal parts, a woman steps out.

He avoids making eye contact, but at hearing her 'pardon' as she passes, Louis looks behind him to see that it's Gigi who's just walked passed.

Gigi seems to have noticed some familiarity too, as she double-takes and looks at Louis as he's stepping into the elevator.

They share a moment of mutual acknowledgment and she gives him a quirky smirk. Louis bites a smile back as the elevator doors close off his view from the lobby.

Gigi interests him. He enjoys her company. She's a very career driven, well spoken, intelligent, open minded woman. She clearly respects and follows the boundaries of whatever her and Zayn's relationship entails.

He wishes he could find a Gigi, but in man form.

The elevator dings to let him onto the 16th floor and he pushes his hair farther back into his beanie as he locates the right door. With three quick knocks, he takes a step back and waits.

The door opens and Zayn gives him a smile.

He's dressed in an untucked white button up and simple black suit pants. It almost looks as if he's winding down from a day at the office, minus a tie.

Louis feels severely underdressed.

It's also incredibly jarring to be standing in front of his employee in Levi's and a parka.

"Come in." Zayn gives him a warm smile.

Louis steps through the threshold into Zayn and Gigi's home.

It's warm and classy. There's abstract artwork, sculptures, and a portrait of Gigi in performance. The furniture is neither modern, nor clumsy.

"Nice house." Louis says simply.

"Thank you. We've put a lot into this place." Zayn ushers him over to the couch. "Set your jacket down. Can I get you a sparkling water or a flat water?"

"Flat please." Louis decides the less bloating, the better. He discards his jacket onto the coat rack, revealing his Slipknot t-shirt underneath.

"We still have a bit to discuss before getting started, so please take a seat. You'll also find an NDA for both of our sakes on the coffee table along with a black pen." Zayn instructs while going over to the kitchen.

"I actually brought along my own as well." Louis unzips his parka and pulls out his standard NDA in a plastic sheet. "I'm happy to sign both."

"Wonderful." Zayn laughs as he returns and takes a seat across from Louis. "Also, I should warn you. The papers we're going to go through were made by Gigi." He signs his name on the NDA and they swap papers. "As a professional aerial artist, she's much more thorough than I could ever hope to be. I also have several pages of safety instructions that I'm to follow exactly before, during, and after, to ensure both of our safety."

"So you guys do this often?" Louis asks less for the sake of his safety and more out of curiosity at this point.

"Yes." Zayn says. "Please bear with me as well- I'm sure you're just as well versed, if not more advanced, than I am with suspension- but due to the nature of the contracts that we all abide by, it will be better for us to go through this as if it's your first time. 'Proper prior planning prevents pissed play partners'... or something like that."

"I respect that." Louis understands that in many scenes, and particularly one where he's going to be in a new mindset, he needs to leave his ego at the door. He knows if the situation were reversed, he would walk Zayn through it as if it were his first time. It's why he wouldn't do much with Harry before they went through their contract. Harry needed to understand the essentials.

He sighs at himself and takes a drink of the water.

"So." Zayn begins with the first paper. "When did you last eat?"

"Half a pastry in the last hour. Soup for lunch. Eggs, toast, green smoothie for breakfast." Louis recites, knowing he'd be asked that question.

"Are you thirsty?" Zayn motions to the water Louis has hardly touched.

"No, but I'll drink the rest of this glass before we begin." Louis feels weird reporting everything to Zayn.

"How are you feeling in general today?" Zayn asks.

Louis pauses to consider the answer. "Introspective I suppose."

"Has the introspection increased or decreased the quality of your mental health?" Zayn looks up, not reading from the paper.

Louis blinks at him, not wanting to have to go into this. "Decreased."

"Is there anything that needs to be addressed between you and I before our scene begins? Or are they otherwise personal problems?" Zayn sets the paper on his lap.

"They're personal problems." Louis purses his lips at himself. "Like, the reason I'm wanting to kind of do this in the first place."

"Wonderful. Please let me know if at any point we need to stop the scene if your mentality isn't in a good spot." Zayn picks his paper back up. "Also have you been sick recently?"

"I never get sick." Louis drinks more water.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Zayn asks.

"A little restless due to nerves, but six full hours." Louis recites.

"Is anything sore today?" Zayn asks.

"Other than my ego? No, I haven't worked out in two days." Louis says.

A small laugh comes from Zayn. "And to clarify, is not working out in two  days abnormal for you?"

"I normally work out every day. I didn't want to be sore, so I've skipped a couple days." Louis says.

"Is the temperature here comfortable for you?" Zayn asks.

"I'm most comfortable at 74 degrees." Louis says. "So it's a tiny bit hot for me right now."

Zayn lifts a brow at Louis. "It's 70 degrees in here, so I suspect your nerves have your core temperature up quite a bit."

Louis looks at himself self-consciously. He can't believe he's that much hotter than the room. He didn't even realize he was sweating.

"Do you want to use the bathroom before we start?" Zayn asks.

"No thank you." Louis prepped in advance for that, too.

Zayn asks him in more detail about medical conditions, physical limitations, previous injuries, and allergies. Louis is happy to find that he's still in good, self-diagnosed, health.

"What particular positions do you know work well or poorly for you?" Zayn asks.

"Spread eagle in a rope harness worked well." Louis recites. "Shrimp ties aren't my favorite."

Zayn nods. "Is that the most difficult rope tie you've been in?"

"Yes; and it didn't involve suspension." Louis remembers barely being able to stay in it on a bed for more than three minutes.

"What has been your favorite rope scene, and what made it good for you?" Zayn asks.

"I don't have a favorite from when I was subbing; as I tried to stay away from the whole 'completely powerless' thing." Louis grimaces.

"Did you ever have a rope scene go badly?" Zayn looks at him. "Or experienced any injuries from it?"

"I colored out of the shrimp tie." Louis is glad multiple NDA's have been signed tonight. "No injuries though."

Zayn, ever the cool and collected one, gives a simple nod before moving on. "I'm not going to go over the different types of bruising, marks, and burns that are potential consequences, but I do need to ask if there are any areas you'd like me to avoid because of that possibility."

"Just avoid my neck please. Anywhere else is fine." Louis had already decided on being okay with marks and whatnot. It's not like he has anyone to worry about.

"Wonderful." Zayn marks it on the paper. "Now, I'm taking responsibility for not dropping you. Your responsibility is to listen to your body. You must be vigilant in paying attention to any tingling, numbness, or unusual sensations."

"I understand." Louis finishes his glass of water.

"You may follow me." Zayn promptly stands up, and Louis follows directly behind him.

"This is where our scene is going to be taking place." Zayn ushers him into a room that's clearly meant for an aerial artist to practice in, along with a very inviting futon. "I've cleared out a section of the room, all tripping hazards, and anything within a 10-foot radius for our convenience."

Louis nods. He feels his skin prick with nerves. He can't believe he's doing this.

"Do you want me to go through my safety checklist with you? Or the coloring system?" Zayn glances at the paper. "Red, yellow, green. Hard points, safety cutters-"

"No, I definitely feel good about everything." Louis has probably never felt so secure about trying something new.

"Okay. Last but not least, hand check please." Zayn motions for Louis to put his hands up to him. 

Louis gives him an open palm, and Zayn puts his index finger into it. "Close please."

Louis gives a simple squeeze as he closes his hand around Zayn's finger.

It's weird crossing the touch barrier with Zayn. He knows it's only going to escalate from here.

Zayn switches to holding onto all four of Louis' fingers at once. "Now spread your fingers please."

Louis forces his finger pressure against Zayn's easy grip around his hand. It's easy to open his hand.

"Do you have any other questions for me before we begin?" Zayn gives him a comforting smile.

"No." Louis really doesn't. His brain feels blank. He can't decide if that's good or bad.

He earlier was begging for his brain to be blank, so he settles on it being a good thing.

"Let's start with a bit of ice breaking then, yeah?" Zayn discards all the papers, and picks up his Metal Core phone.

After a couple of clicks, the voice over of a woman comes onto the speakers and Louis instantly recognizes it as the intro to Baby's Got Back.

A giant laugh takes him by surprise, and he grabs his stomach from laughing so suddenly. With a giant smile on his face, he sees Zayn grinning and chuckling along with him.

Zayn motions over to the futon and speaks lightheartedly. "Over to the bed, please."

Louis kicks off his sneakers into the far corner of the room, makes his way over to the futon, and sits upon it with his legs crossed.

Zayn moseys over and sits cross-legged on the floor. Louis feels eons more comfortable than he ever would have pictured. He finds that the smile still hasn't left his face.

"Let's get the blood flowing a bit." Zayn cracks his knuckles, then pats his lap. "Shirt and pants off, then feet in my lap."

Louis has no fucking clue what Zayn means by that, or what exactly Zayn intends to do from his position on the ground, but finds it easy to remove his shirt and pants. He's glad to trust that Zayn will be ever the rock, and not reactive.

Louis puts his feet in Zayn's lap. Zayn discards his left foot off to the side and pulls his opposite sock off. With firm and quick motions, Zayn, essentially, gives Louis a foot massage.

His feet are, in fact, freezing. So it feels nice. It's also the smoothest way Louis can think of for them to continue crossing the touch barrier. Louis looks down at Zayn with a great amount of fondness. Something akin to what he feels for Niall.

Zayn works up and down his calf, then switches feet. With both socks off, and only his underwear remaining, he finds his body temperature stabilizing.

When Zayn is done on the floor, he takes an easy seat next to Louis on the bed. Louis finds it nice that he doesn't have to anticipate what comes next.

"Hand please." Zayn motions toward Louis' hands.

Louis gives him one and watches Zayn for any traces of discomfort. When Louis pushes his own energy to the side, he notes that Zayn really is calm, but attentive. He tries to soak that in.

It feels nice to let Zayn touch him. It feels nice to trust him.

Zayn massages up to his elbows and back down to his wrists. With a swap of hands, the music changes to a slower Backstreet Boys song. Louis laughs and shakes his head.

Zayn is ridiculous, he decides.

Zayn looks up to smile at him. "Color?"

"Green." Louis says easily.

"Wonderful." Zayn finishes up and gives Louis his hands back. "On your back, please."

Louis feels like he's dunking back into water when he hits the soft fabric. He lets out a breath and waits for further instruction.

Zayn still makes no move to place himself above Louis in any way, but instead, stands by Louis' head with a short length of rope. "Hands."

As Louis lifts his arms above his head, he looks down his torso. Zayn must think he's absurd for his choice in tattoos. Again, he's glad that they both signed NDA's.

Louis looks up as he feels the hemp start to wrap around his wrists. Zayn does a simple double column tie in record time and Louis wonders how many times Zayn has practiced this week to achieve that kind of speed.

"Please keep your arms above your head unless told otherwise." Zayn grabs another short length of rope and sits by Louis' feet.

Louis forgets what his appropriate response is supposed to be and decides it doesn't matter much anyway. "I understand."

Zayn does another double column very quickly to bind Louis' ankles together, and adds some flair in wrapping around his feet. Zayn steps back to assess Louis.

Louis is very much tied up on a bed.

He feels open and exposed, yes. But he feels relaxed about it. He's not worried about what he should or shouldn't be doing. He feels like he and Zayn are working together on a science project or something.

An experiment.

Which they are.

"Would you prefer those ties looser or tighter?" He asks.

Louis wiggles around a bit and the texture of the rope rubs against what feels like every surface of his skin. It doesn't burn or scratch. He has little mobility, but can easily feel his blood flow and none of his nerves feel compressed.

"They're great where they are." Louis decides.

Zayn steps up to Louis' hands and motions for a quick hand pressure check. Louis follows the cues and a curiosity forms in his stomach with what comes next.

The music changes again to something deeper and progressive. It's a relaxing and soft beat, with an electronic beat.

"On your knees, please. Elbows up on the headboard." Zayn gets into the thin profiled, make-shift headboard and pulls out a riding crop.

Louis wiggles onto his stomach that has inconveniently dropped 16 floors down, then lifts himself into the instructed position. He rests his head on his forearm, closes his eyes, and tries to remember to breathe. He can go through with this. He's strong.

Zayn kneels behind him, and Louis adjusts his knees again. He can't feel Zayn, and doesn't know if he wants to.

The second the leather touches his back shoulder blade, Louis flinches as if he had been whipped. He feels the leather leave his skin instantly and feels stupid. Zayn had touched him with the riding crop as if it had been a peacock feather, and Louis treated it like it was a bull whip. Why can't Louis be less reactive like Zayn? He just needs to fucking relax.

"Color." Zayn says.

"Green." Louis reaffirms. "Just haven't- just... adjusting. Jesus."

"To the ropes?" Zayn asks.

"Bottoming." Louis says with a little more acid than he intended.

"Would you like me to warn you before making any kind of contact?" Zayn offers.

Louis grits his teeth. Of fucking course he does. He'd rather be in control of the whole damn scene in the first place. He'd rather be in Zayn's spot.

But he's not.

He's tied up and kneeled on a bed, nearly naked. Exactly where he's supposed to be right now.

"No." He shakes his head, hating the inside of his brain; hating how he is; hating that he can't control fucking anything in his life, including himself.

He's forgotten how strong that feeling is. It's been buried for so damn long. It started when he couldn't control his mother and fix her. When he couldn't get a real job to take care of Felicite. When he couldn't do anything to help against his father. When he was forced from foster home to foster home before running away with his sister. When he went days without eating so that his sister could instead.

He hates himself for not being able to fix any of it.

Zayn slowly makes contact again and rubs the crop up and down Louis' back. Louis feels his back continually get tense and hates that he can't even do this right.

The only god damned thing he can do right anymore is his career. It's the only thing that's ever been there for him. It's the only thing he's ever been able to rely on because it's something he created for himself. His parents weren't fucking there for him to rely on. His little sister was reliant on him. Louis has only ever had his career.

It's the only thing that's given him a sense of freedom. It's given him financial freedom and it's helped him do whatever he pleases with his life. But despite the freedom it's given him, he hasn't been able to help his family with it.

"Fuck." Louis breathes a little harder as Zayn drags the leather along the band of Louis' underwear.

He's always been bound by the choices of others. Like Felicite wanting to have a child, his mother always choosing to go back to heroin, and the fucking judicial system not giving him any mercy for his father. Despite his 'freedom', he feels more bound than ever.

"Fucking fuck." Louis mutters as the riding crop still acts like a pacifist.

The leather travels up his spine and he feels every muscle tense- just when he thought they were already maxed out. He bites into the side of his arm.

He hates waiting for the pain.

He hates not being in control.

He can't fucking stand it.

"Just fucking hit me already!" Louis yells into the void between his arms.

A tiny snap releases against his shoulder blade.

He gasps out like he's just surfaced from the water.

He didn't even flinch.

"Harder." Louis says.

Zayn complies and gives a snap double the pressure of the last.

"Harder." Louis says again.

A free handed fall lands in the same spot and elicits another gasp out of Louis.

He breathes in deeply.

"Harder." He repeats.

As the riding crop snaps harshly against his skin, he let's his back sink down and rests his forehead against his bound arms.

"Fucking harder please." Louis tries not to be demanding, but wants his point to get across.

Zayn takes the liberty of a few quick snaps to his other shoulder blade, then lands a particularly snappy one that makes Louis clench his hands together.

God it feels fucking good.

He shakes his head at himself.

"Zayn." Louis breathes out. "I need you to beat the shit out of me please."

"Get up." Zayn tosses the riding crop to the side and points to the wall. "Attach yourself to the X-frame."

Louis feels his shoulders wince at moving positions, but he moves from the bed and loops his wrist ties around the hook on the St. Andrew's cross.

Zayn gives a quick check on the attachment point, then raises Louis so that he's forced onto his tiptoes.

Louis finds his cheek pressed against the cold wall very comforting.

He closes his eyes and feels peaceful.

Zayn pulls his underwear down to his ankles, and then Louis feels the familiar ends of the flogger thud harshly against his ass.

He smiles as the pain zips from his head to his toes.

A pattern starts in as Zayn works figure eights into his shoulders, ass, and thighs.

Louis laughs as he tries to adjust his footing, and can't. He laughs harder when he tries to lift himself to adjust, and can't. He laughs when he realizes he can't avoid the pain.

He accepts it instead.

He embraces it.

He didn't realize there had been a brief interlude until the next hit that strikes isn't a flogger. It feels like it shreds his back into a hundred pieces.

"God." He breathes out in relief. "Holy fuck."

Louis let his head rest uselessly against his arms as Zayn whips him. He lets his calves burn uselessly.

He's useless, and he's okay with it.

Every strike is like being pulled out of the freezing ocean, then dunked back in. He can't tell which sensation feels better.

It becomes both easier and harder for him to breath as his lungs contract and release the air and everything else left in them out of his body.

"I'm letting you down, Louis." Zayn says somewhere in the distance.

When Louis gets better footing, he's glad his wrists are still supporting his weight because his knees feel like they may collapse.

Zayn wraps an arm around him as the other one unhooks Louis. Louis slumps into Zayn, and Zayn slowly slides them both down the wall onto the floor.

"I need a hand pressure check and a color." Zayn says softly.

Louis squeezes, then flexes against Zayn's fingers. "Green."

"Look at me." Zayn says.

Louis didn't realize he hadn't been focusing on any one thing. He looks into Zayn's brown eyes.

"I don't feel comfortable suspending you. You look pale. And I wasn't anticipating so much impact play prior." Zayn feels Louis' forehead, then starts to unravel the ropes.

"Please don't." Louis shakes his head. "Please can we keep going?"

Zayn is silent for a moment, then speaks. "I'll decide in a minute."

Louis rolls his wrists around once they're free. He rubs his fingers inside the rope imprints and likes the feeling of it.

Once Zayn has his ankles free too, he stands up and holds a hand down to Louis.

"Let me help you up." Zayn says.

Louis gives him his hands, and is lifted off the floor. He feels a little lightheaded, but very clear.

"Step." Zayn says.

Louis looks down to step out of his briefs. He forgot he was naked.

He doesn't care.

"Water, and then we can see where you're at." Zayn leads him over to the crash mat.

Louis decides on sitting cross legged again and is taken by surprise when his cold feet touch the backs of his burning thighs. He can hardly feel the pain anymore.

Zayn gives him a small water bottle and Louis downs it in one go. It's cold and refreshing.

"What's your name?" Zayn asks.

"Louis Tomlinson." Louis thinks it's the least aggressive he's ever said his name.

"Where are you?" Zayn asks.

"Your house." Louis says. "I'm not spacing off. I'm good."

"What day of the week is it?" Zayn checks.

"No fucking clue." Louis gives a small laugh. "Sunday, right?"

"Okay." Zayn looks at him. "Louis, we just did a lot of impact play... that you haven't done in years. What is your body feeling right now?"

"I feel my cold feet against my warm thighs." Louis wiggles his toes. "I can move all my extremities fine. My mouth is still cold from the water."

"How is your back?" Zayn asks.

Louis shrugs. "Stings a little when I move. It's fine though."

"You've had an incredible amount of dopamine dump into your body quite rapidly. When the adrenaline wears off, you're not going to be feeling great." Zayn says like Louis doesn't already know.

"So I'll let you know when it starts to wear off." Louis grins. "And I can be up in the air until then."

Zayn nods. "I'm bringing you down sooner if I feel you're being irrational."

"Deal." Louis plops himself face first onto the mat. "Tie me up."

"As you wish." Zayn says a little comically.

This time when Zayn ties Louis up, it's deliberate and slow. The rope glides softly along Louis' skin- some places where it's previously touched, and some places that were untouched.

Louis slowly feels his body morph into the position Zayn puts him in. The rope holds him in place like it's going to do all the work.

Louis closes his eyes and relaxes into that feeling.

After the ties are completed, he feels Zayn run his hands up and down every inch of the ties three different times to check the knots. Louis' smooshed mouth grins into the mat. He really couldn't have chosen a better person to help him with this.

He feels himself get rigged up, and it's another several minutes of triple checking before Zayn starts to slowly lift him up.

It's a gradual pull as the rope manipulates Louis' body into hanging from the position it's meant to. He has no idea how close or far he is to the ground, and doesn't care much to find out. His body settles softly into the ropes.

It's a dynamic flavor of sensations. There's the rubbing of the rope on different parts of his body, the muscles relaxing into themselves while others stretch to their limits, and Louis' brain melting to mush. He has no control whatsoever over what's happening. The more he lets it happen, the more he grasps the beauty of it.

His lungs deflate as he releases the remaining air in them.

"Finger pressure please." Zayn requests.

Louis' hands are strung up in a precarious position, but he manages a squeeze that he's proud of, and flexes with an equal amount of pressure. He thinks he's doing fantastic.

"Thank you." Zayn says.

Zayn is so polite and nice and Louis thinks maybe that's part of what he's missing. He's reminded of the tiny duckling he saved at such a young age and the gentleness with which he handled them. Zayn kind of treats Louis kind of like a duckling, and Louis wonders how that would be if he thought of other people that way.

He thinks of Felicite, and Niall, and Harry. He should be more gentle with them.

He thinks of himself, in a lone space, and thinks he should treat himself more gentle too.

His eyes squeeze together as the pain that's built up over his lifetime pulses through his heart and every nerve of his body. It's too much for his body to handle and he has to let some of the hurt out before it destroys him from inside.

With a rapid breath in, he realizes he needs more oxygen because he's sobbing.

"Yellow." Louis says. "Yellow."

"You're close to the mat already." Zayn says. "A few more seconds and you'll be down."

It truly is only a few seconds, and Louis feels his cheek gently kiss the mat. As his body contorts into a more normal position, he coughs and lets himself cry.

 

"I'm coming to untie you." Zayn says.

Deft hands carefully and quickly unravel Louis, and Louis feels collapsed into the floor, limp limbs doing him no good. A puddle forms where his eyes keep forcing water out.

"Can I touch you?" Zayn asks.

Louis doesn't have the willpower to speak, and barely has any to nod his head, but he does so out of respect for Zayn.

Zayn places a soft hand on Louis' shoulder. Louis feels Zayn's knee close to his face and buries it into the material.

"You're doing so good, Louis." Zayn says.

Another hand wipes his sweaty hair off his forehead and Louis thinks he hasn't cried this much in his life. He didn't know he had all of this inside him.

"I'm going to move you into the bathroom, okay?" Zayn says. "I'm going to get a soft blanket first."

Louis nods into Zayn's knee. When his knee is gone, Louis opts for setting a hand over his face.

Moments later, Louis feels the softest blanket of his life envelop every inch of his body.

Zayn lifts him up effortlessly, and they pass through the living room and master bedroom into the bathroom. It's beautiful and homey, and Louis wishes his house felt like Zayn's.

He's set on a chaise lounge chair and Zayn runs a bath. Louis rests his face into the velvet and sniffles as his tears die down.

"I'm going to have some food brought here for you, okay?" Zayn checks the temperature of the bath. "I'd like to keep an eye on you for a while."

Louis nods.

His brain is completely quiet. He spends his time admiring the nice neutral tile. The rugs are a soft brown and there's lovely flecks of sandy colors throughout it.

"Would you prefer I set you in, or would you just like a hand?" Zayn asks.

"Hand please." Louis says through his raw throat.

Louis doesn't try standing up in a position that's anything close to straight, but he does make it into the bath. It's a nice lukewarm temperature and he finds himself vocally sighing as his body reconnects itself to his brain.

"I-" Louis starts without really knowing what he's saying. "I want to be a better person."

Zayn doesn't try and hurry any kind of conversation, and speaks sincerely. "I think that's wonderful."

Louis nods to himself as he relaxes his head back onto the bath pillow. "Yeah... me too."

~~~


	60. Chapter 58

**~~~**

**New Man, New Plan!**

**Harry Returns to New York**

**Styles and Styles to Rule Manhattan**

**New Royals**

**Hiatus Rumors Crushed!!!!!**

H

"What time is our brunch?" Harry asks Desmond.

"Two hours." Desmond replies.

"Don't worry, we're just about done here." Matt, the hairdresser, says.

"No, sorry!" Harry instantly replies. "I didn't mean to rush you. I'm just nervous about the lunch."

"Never rush your hairdresser, Harry." Desmond clicks away on his Roots phone. "Especially Mr. Fugate. He's a busy man."

Matt just smiles. "No worries. It's my pleasure."

"Yeah, thanks again." Harry can't stop staring at himself in the mirror. "Does my neck look weird to you?"

Matt and Desmond laugh.

"Your neck looks great. Very muscular." Matt says simply.

"I haven't had it this short since..." Harry really doesn't remember. "I don't remember, actually."

"New cut, new you, eh?" Matt emulsifies a pomade in his hands, then runs it through Harry's new hair.

"Yeah. Something like that." Harry looks at his father through the mirror and they share a look.

"All done here." Matt pulls the cape off and brushes the remaining hair off Harry's neck. "Thank you so much for coming in today. My assistant will take you up to the front."

"No, thank you so much for getting me in last minute. I know you're typically booked out for months." Harry hands him a 200 dollar tip.

"I like supporting good causes." Matt gives them a nod. "Hope to see you again, Harry."

"Absolutely. Thanks." Harry returns the nod and him and Desmond go to the front of the salon.

After purchasing all of Matt's suggested products, Harry takes a breath to ready himself for the paparazzi outside the building. He arrived this morning with Desmond in the suit he had departed in, and it's time for him to do some more shopping. They've arranged for the paps to follow them around for the better part of today, and Harry knows this is still only the beginning. They have a lot of upcoming PR to involve themselves in.

"Ready?" Desmond asks after they check out.

"Ready." Harry confirms.

Desmond opens the door of Serge Normant at John Frieda and they walk out together.

At the blinding flash of lights and slew of questions that ensue, Harry finds himself smiling. He looks at several of the photographers and several lenses, flashing a smile. Their last day in Kentucky, Desmond had found a dentist and a spa that had last minute openings to groom Harry for his return to New York. Though he's never had his teeth professionally whitened before, he can't say he hates it. In fact, he wonders what they'll look like in the pictures.

They slide into Desmond's BMW and the driver takes them out of Chelsea toward SoHo.

Harry stares out the front window, learning the landscape of this part of town that he hasn't previously visited. His mind wanders to what the lunch today will be like. He doesn't know what Desmond has in store, but knows he has to trust him.

He habitually looks at his phone, which he realizes he still hasn't turned back on.

"Hey." Harry says.

"Yes?" Desmond looks over to him.

"I haven't had my phone off airplane mode since I last left New York." Harry shuts off the lock screen. "I'm kind of nervous to turn it back on."

"You can have Niall take care of that." Desmond suggests. "I've had him clean up my phone and take care of anything that needs to be addressed if I've been in a spot where I didn't want to deal with my phone either."

Harry frowns. "I don't really know how I feel about Niall."

"How about Liam then?" Desmond asks. "I know you and him are close."

"Well... kind of." Harry regrets not spending more time with him. Louis had kind of ruined that for him. "I think that's a good idea though. Can he be my personal assistant?"

"Of course." Desmond says.

"Are you... going to keep Niall on as your assistant?" Harry decides to ask.

"I always have and I always will." Desmond says. "Remember, Harry, that no matter who you are working with or against;  _you_  are the strongest player on your team. Others may influence your success, but ultimately you are the one who will make or break it. Not them." 

Harry considers this for a minute. "Isn't it kind of working uphill though? Having him be who he is? It's like creating more work for yourself."

Desmond sighs. "I suppose I've always preferred the enemy that I know, rather than the enemy I don't. Knowing those two so well- it's easier being on the inner circle of the corruption than the outside."

"I hope I never have to understand that." Harry shakes his head.

Desmond looks as if he has more to say, but decides against it. Instead, he settles for a nod.

The car pulls up to the curb and Harry and Desmond prepare themselves for the next set of paps that await them in front of ARI. When they step out, they seem a little more aggressive than the last batch. Harry thinks he hears 'gay' thrown around a couple of times, but doesn't hear the context. He peeks over to his father to see his reaction. Desmond has nothing showing on his face. Harry wonders what it costs for him to stay composed. He hopes to be able to control his own temper like Desmond has learned to.

Inside of the store is like a breath of fresh air. It smells of fine linens and a hint of red wine. It's spacious and monotone and Harry finds himself oddly settled into the space already.

"Welcome Mr. and Mr. Styles. I'm Hatsuo and I will be taking care of you today. Our owner here, Giuseppe, sends his warm regards and apologizes for his absence, as he is on holiday with his family in Sicily." Hatsuo says. "He's excited to bring you some of his winery's finest new bottles upon returning."

"Thank you Hatsuo." Desmond responds. "We're just in for some quick items. Send him my regards and tell him we'll need to get together for golf again soon."

"Absolutely." Hatsuo ushers them to the couch. "Can I offer you a glass of wine?"

"Yes please." Desmond requests. "Harry?"

Harry bites at his tongue for a second. He doesn't want to get too loose, but remembers how much more confident he became when Pablo gave him Sangria.

"May I just have like... two sips of yours?" He asks.

Desmond looks amused. "Of course."

"And what items may I retrieve for you?" Hatsuo asks.

"Pretty much need a top to bottom make-over." Harry looks at his favorite Chelseas. "Except for shoes. I want the outfit to match my shoes. And a very warm jacket, please."

Hatsuo bows. "I will prepare the room and Jael will be over shortly with your drinks."

"Thanks." Harry and Desmond say in unison.

A blonde woman with a Swiss accent bring them a tray with a glass of red wine, sparkling water, and flat water. "1937 Sangiovese. Brunello di Montalcino."

"Thanks." Harry grabs the flat water from the tray.

"Thank you." Desmond takes the glass and holds it up to Harry. "Cheers."

Harry gives his father a whimsical smile. "Cheers."

They tap plastic against glass and take sips of their drinks.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry spots a few things that Hatsuo has gathered together. He seems to have good taste as far as Harry's concerned. When Hatsuo pulls a coat out to look at it, then re-racks it, Harry speaks up.

"Actually, could I try that one on?" Harry calls to him.

"Of course." Hatsuo gives him a half bow and brings the coat over, along with three suits and three tops. "Please let me know if I can retrieve different sizing or styles for you."

"Thanks." Harry stands from the couch.

Desmond grabs Harry's suit sleeve before he gets too far away. "Harry."

Surprised, Harry turns around to see his father offering him the wine.

"Good call." Harry smiles.

He takes a hearty drink and winces at the bittersweet taste of the wine.

"Ugh." Harry smacks his lips. "Thanks."

"Please don't disrespect wine that costs as much as the suit you're currently wearing." Desmond reprimands.

Harry blushes and looks self-consciously from Hatsuo to Jael. "I'm so sorry-"

"It's fine. Red wine is only for the very sophisticated." Jael says.

Harry can't tell if she's joking or not and feels even worse. He really should have known better than to do that. Pablo and Lenny have both lectured him endlessly on manners.

Desmond laughs though, so Harry thinks it was okay.

"I'm only partially joking." She says boredly.

"That's enough Jael." Hatsuo says. "Which one can I help you with first Mr. Styles?"

"Please just call me Harry." He says. "And I'll just take care of them myself. Thank you, though."

In the fitting room, he already knows he doesn't like the first one as soon as he sticks his arm in it. The second one, a three-quarter sleeved cashmere scoop neck, he decides he likes very, very much. He leaves the third button-up option on the rack as well. No need to try it on if he already loves one of them.

Out of the navy, black, and plaid suit pants, he smiles, and knows which one his preference is immediately.

He parts the curtain and steps out in the black shirt and plaid pants. "Does this one come with a suit jacket as well?"

Already unbuttoned and in his hands, Hatsuo holds it out for him. Harry looks at him like he's a mind-reader.

"I mentioned that might be your choice." Desmond chuckles.

It feels like a quirky kind of acceptance from his father and he finds that he's becoming more fond of that feeling.

"Thanks." He pulls on the plaid jacket and looks at himself in the mirror.

He blinks twice and tries to not let the surprise show on his face.

He doesn't even recognize himself. He'd already forgotten he cut his hair off. His brows look groomed and his face is glowing. His manicured nails detract from the healing blisters on his hands and he appears taller to himself than he's ever looked before.

"What are your thoughts on this look?" Hatsuo asks.

"I'll take it, please." Harry stands to the side to look at his profile in the mirror. He squares his shoulders up a little more.

Hatsuo holds out the coat that Harry had liked. "This parka is wind-resistant and blizzard proof. The 100% real fox fur lining is removable with zips and buttons. Pockets are fleece lined. It's one of our warmest jackets."

Harry slides it on over his suit. It's very, very warm. "I like it." He shoves his hands in the pockets and feels the soft fleece inside. "What do you think?" He asks Desmond.

Desmond sighs. "It's very... you." He taps his lip with his finger. "Do you have necklaces we could look at? It's so unusual with the absence of a collared shirt or tie."

"It's this new generation." Hatsuo says. "Redefining formal and casual wear. Let me show you one of our best sellers."

Harry lifts his brows at his dad and speaks under his breath so Hatsuo won't hear. "I don't wear necklaces."

"Just try it on. You might like it." Desmond says knowingly.

Hatsuo motions for Harry to turn around and puts the necklace on him from behind. If this were some kind of romance movie, Harry thinks this would be a splendid way to be adorned with a gift from his lover. He avoids eye contact with Hatsuo and waits for him to step back before giving it a good assessment in the mirror.

"This is our GOTI Onyx. It's onyx and sterling silver." Hatsuo says.

Harry cocks his head sideways at himself in the mirror. It actually looks... cool.

"I like it." He looks at his father through the mirror.

Desmond gives him a nod back with a restrained smile.

"There is also a ring that pairs well with the necklace." Hatsuo offers.

"I don't-" Harry stops himself. "Yeah sure... let's try that."

Hatsuo holds out the ring box for him.

Harry gently takes it from him before Hatsuo offers to put it on his hand. "What finger does it go on?"

"That all depends." Hatsuo says.

"What do you mean?" Harry looks at him.

"The pinky finger is for statement rings. Ring finger is typically meant for wedding bands or romantic relationships. Middle finger is the very masculine choice. The index finger is to show class and family crests. Thumb is for wealth and influence." Hatsuo says.

Harry puts it on his pinky, then looks at himself in the mirror again. The necklace and ring make him look complete. "I'll take it all. Thank you."

Jael is over by Desmond's side in seconds and takes his debit card.

Harry is still twisting and turning and looking at himself in the mirror. He runs his hands through his hair a couple of times.

"Thank you for your custom." Jael returns Desmond's card. "Here is also a pair of complimentary sunglasses we would like to debut through Mr. Styles Junior."

Harry looks at them curiously. He puts them on and instantly like them. They're very comfortable against his skin. He puts them atop his head.

"We'll have a courier here shortly to retrieve your old garments and deliver them to your house." Hatsuo says. "May we help you with anything else today?"

"I think that about does it." Desmond stands up to stretch.

Harry takes another two sips of wine. He makes sure to not grimace this time. He shakes his arms around to settle them into the new clothes and ignores the butterflies in his stomach.

"Thank you." He says to his father.

Desmond places a hand on his shoulder. "It's my pleasure."

Harry looks down at his ring again. It feels heavy on his hand. Like there's a weight attached to him. He likes it.

"Ready then?" Desmond asks.

Harry nods. "As I'll ever be."

"I'll get the door." Desmond motions to Hatsuo. "Give the nice man a handshake, Harry."

Harry smiles knowingly. 

Desmond opens the door and flashes flood the doorway. Harry gives Hatsuo a jolly smile and handshake. He mumbles thank you's and over-exaggerates the handshake by grabbing his elbow with his other hand. Hatsuo plays right along and nods and thanks him back.

With some great shots out of the way for the paps, Harry steps through the doorway and flips his collar up. He dramatically whips his sunglasses off the top his head, uses his teeth to open the stem, and gives a raise of his brow before covering his eyes with the sunglasses. He really hopes he can leave a good impression of ARI's clothing. He had a much better experience than he expected and wants to represent them well.

The sunglasses also help filter out a great amount of the illumination from the cameras. He might have to keep these on hand more often.

Back in the cab, Harry opts for being more direct with his father.

"So who are we meeting with?" Harry puts the sunglasses back on top of his head.

Desmond turns to look at him. "Our lobbyists."

"Explain that please." Harry loves that line. It's the simplest way to get information the most efficiently.

"They're shadows, Harry. You're not meant to know more about them." Desmond leans an elbow up against the back of the taxi seat.

"What do you mean?" Harry furrows his brows together.

"Have you heard of lobbyists?" Desmond asks.

"Yes." Harry says.

"Do you know their names?" Desmond asks.

"No." Harry says.

"Have you ever seen one?" Desmond asks.

"No." Harry says.

"They're shadows." Desmond states.

Harry laughs louder than he thinks he should have.

"Seeing as you're going to take over the company, you'll need to have very good relationships with them. Strong relationships. Respect their power and respect their loyalty." Desmond says seriously.

"I'm still so lost." Harry laughs in spite of himself.

Desmond gives a thoughtful look. "Let's pretend Zayn works for an electronic manufacturing company, and he invites you to lunch."

"Okay. I'm already suspicious." Harry finds himself still smiling.

"Exactly. What does Zayn want?" Desmond asks rhetorically. "So, say he calls you up and invites you to brunch at Augustine- at no cost to you- to discuss some things he think may benefit you and your company."

"And I comply." Harry plays along.

"Yes." Desmond uses hand gestures to explain the next part. "So he says to you 'That's a really nice suit, how long ago did you get that?' and you say 'It's my favorite suit- I've had it over a year now.' and Zayn says, 'You know what? I know a guy who can get that exact one for you at no cost.'"

Harry looks amused. "I'm interested."

Desmond continues. "And, as you know, we've donated over three million to your charity campaign in the last year alone. Our entire company supplies it's employees with Roots phones at a special price as per our founder who has always been a great admirer of yours."

Harry rolls his eyes. "So what the fuck do you want?"

"Well." Desmond places a dramatic hand on Harry's knee. "We noticed your Wolfconn microchips are old technology. Our innovative microchips are tested at 70% faster than the industry lead."

"Hang on. Speaking of Wolfconn..." Harry cocks his head to the side. "Louis- that's exactly what he-" Harry's brain starts piecing things together more rapidly than he can convey them.

"What?" Desmond mirrors Harry's facial expression. "Slow down."

Harry shakes his head at himself. "Louis said to me a long time ago, when the EMS facilities collapsed, that he sleighted a deal with Wolfconn's CEO and got him to sign a non-compete so that Wolfconn could never manufacture products for competing companies again. He didn't actually, personally, do that, did he? That's the lobbyists work?"

"Precisely." Desmond looks impressed.

Harry feels so many lights turn on in his head. The inner workings of his company make so much more sense to him now. He recalls conversations he's overheard where Niall has talked about upcoming deals that Harry didn't understand were possible. He realizes he's walked in on his father speaking to someone on his office phone that must have been one as well.

That particular conversation, he remembers, was about the leading conservative political party. With another lightbulb on, he realizes that Roots must be heavily involved in politics. He understands the stunt with the truck washing and the women in the park must have been set by his father to appease them. He understands that there truly are influencers out there bigger than him, bigger than his father, and bigger than Roots, that are the fabric that weaves this world together.

He finally realizes how much his father has put at stake to still come back- after knowing Harry is gay and what that will cost the company- and want him to take his place.

Unwanted emotion floors his body and overwhelming gratitude for Desmond is all Harry can think about.

Yes, he abandoned Harry and his mother.

Yes, he is a filthy businessman.

Yes, he has made horrible choices.

But he's also risking everything to make it right.

His mouth hangs open for a second, then he bites his lip. He turns to look at Desmond.

"Thank you, dad..." Harry pauses. "Thank you for all of this."

He bites at his lip again to stop himself from saying more.

Desmond lets out an uneven breath and looks out the opposite window. He nods to no one but himself. "You're welcome."

Harry smashes his face against the window to feel the crisp bite of the temperature outside. He needs to refocus before they get there.

His shoulders go slack against the back of the car's seat and every exhale from his nose fogs up the window a little more.

He repeats in his mind over and over that this will pan out perfectly. That whatever Desmond has planned will turn out just fine.

The car slows as they pull up to the sidewalk of Joseph Leonard. Harry squares up his posture and re-fits his coat over his new suit jacket.

He's ready for business.

Following Desmond in, they stop at the host station where Desmond leans in to say something under his breath to the host. The host nods twice, then escorts them to the back room.

Harry walks behind his father as if it's exactly where he belongs and doesn't look at any of the other patrons sitting in the restaurant.

In the back room, there is one table set up.

There are two men with blonde hair and clean-shaven faces. The older man has grey hair that blends with the blonde and is in a crisp navy-blue suit. The younger, incredibly attractive man looks to be Harry's age and has piercing navy blue eyes.

At the reflex of smiling, Harry instantly averts his eyes to prevent his cheeks from going red, and instead, focuses on copying his father's actions.

Desmond approaches the table with an affable smile. "Mr. Hough and Mr. Hough. It's a pleasure to see you again."

They both stand from the table and Harry sees the resemblance now in their noses and cheekbones. The older offers his hand to Desmond. "Pleasure."

The younger shakes Desmond's hand next. "It's been, what, six years since that scuba tour in the Maldives?" He laughs.

Desmond gives a sincere laugh back at that. "Why, I think it has been. You certainly have grown up." He turns his attention to Harry, and with an err of pride in his voice, introduces him. "My son, Harry."

Harry takes initiative with the conversation. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Hough."

The older Mr. Hough keeps a poker face while shaking Harry's hand. "Likewise."

The younger shakes his hand next and speaks first. "Call me Spencer. It's so good to meet you."

Harry can't stop the smile this time and feels heat from more than just their handshake. "Spencer, call me Harry."

Spencer smiles back and Harry is starting to get a hunch where this may be going.

They all sit down around the table and a waiter comes to take their orders. Once he's gone, Desmond starts up conversation with Mr. Hough.

"How's your wife, Toby?" Desmond clasps his hands on the table.

Harry copies Desmond. Spencer quirks a quick brow at Harry. Harry's eyes dart over to Spencer. Is he being too obvious in copying Desmond? Should he tone it down? Is he coming off as in-authentic?

He decides to put his hands in his lap. They're more comfortable there anyway.

"No one is better at my job than I am Desmond. You don't need to embarrass yourself with pleasantries." Toby says in a way where Harry can't tell if he's amused or upset.

"Then at least send Charlotte my regards and thank her for including me on your Christmas card list. How old are Yorkie and Toffee now?" Desmond asks very seriously.

Toby lets a grin crack through. "I always underestimate you, Desmond."

"No one is better at my job than I am." Desmond says on cue.

Harry finds himself enjoying this conversation very much.

"And I presume we're all here on account of you wanting your son to step into your shoes?" Toby tones it down to business.

"You presume correctly." Desmond says carefully. "I know our sons have a lot in common."

Harry derails the conversation completely and looks at Spencer. "You like Merle Haggard too?" Taps a hand on the table. "See, I knew it as soon as I walked in the room."

This takes everyone by surprise and Spencer and Desmond both break into laughter.

Spencer shakes his head. "I actually hate country. I'm more a Pearl Jam fan, myself."

"I wish I knew something about them, but I actually know absolutely nothing." Harry admits with open hands.

"Maybe I can show you some time." Spencer says lightheartedly. "Introduce you to what 'good music' actually means."

Harry smirks at him. "That sounds like a fantastic idea."

Toby clears his throat as the waiter drops off their food and leaves again.

Desmond picks up like he never stopped. "How are things between you and Clark these days?"

Toby gives an exaggerated sigh. "Swell as ever."

"Good." Desmond says simply.

"This isn't a smart move, Desmond." Toby chides.

"Wasn't it..." Desmond acts like he's thinking hard, "...that same trip to the Maldives that you and I shared a bottle of wine after finding Spencer with my intern's best friend in the scuba changing room, talking about what life would be like if we could present our families exactly as they are. Flaws and all?"

Spencer pinches his nose with two fingers and focuses down on his lap.

Harry wonders if he should even bother asking if it was Louis. He already knows. He wonders how many more times these types of things will come up.

He wonders how many more people he will have to sit across a table from, straight faced, while they discuss someone else's past sexual history with Louis.

He wonders how long he'll feel an overwhelming sense of possession over Louis.

He wonders if his father meant more than just their sexual orientation when he mentioned they have a lot in common.

Harry blinks away the mania that's creeping onto his face.

Toby shakes his head. "'Flaws and all' aren't something that Clark will get behind as easily as myself."

"Clark is a man of particular tastes. There's that time we visited Thailand that comes to mind. The red light district, don't you remember? There were some  _very_  young girls there." Desmond pauses. "He's lucky he had two discreet men, such as ourselves, as the only witnesses."

Harry jumps in. "Surely, there are ways Clark can be persuaded to support our cause, aside from extortion."

Toby gives Harry a sharp look. "No one here said anything about extortion except for you. And I suggest you don't mention it again."

Desmond gives Harry a hard look too, but Spencer jumps in before any reprimands can be said.

"I agree with Harry." Spencer says firmly. "I know Clark's wife. She adores mom and I. We were there through her chemo; even let her keep Toffee at the hospital with her those times she stayed overnight. Plus, she works with children's centers. She believes in a better future for them."   

"And she has enough sway over Clark?" Desmond asks him.

"Oh," Spencer lightly chuckles, "she absolutely does."

Spencer seems to be the only one at the table to know exactly what that means. Harry thinks it's incredible the impact of what relationships with other's can do. He mentally notes to work harder on his outreach.

"We'd really appreciate that Spencer." Harry nods at him, then turns to Desmond. "And I assume that Clark moves the next chess piece?"

Desmond looks to Spencer. "Clark is the one who can inspire Roland. If he's able to get him on board nicely, I know my son would appreciate that."

Harry swells a little at hearing his father lobby for his pursuit of more ethical business relations.

"If that isn't a possibility," Desmond continues, "let Clark know that Harry will be CEO. Despite whoever else higher than him, may or may not end up in prison."

"I understand." Spencer says. "I have good faith that we can all change the ways we do business." He looks to Harry. "And I understand the impact of this for your future company, Harry. I won't let you down."

"I believe you." Harry thinks it sounds silly, but he truly does believe him. "Thank you, Spencer."

Spencer just smiles and nods back.

"Speaking of wine." Desmond kicks back to his more casual voice. "I'll be acquiring a great amount of fine wine from Giuseppe's vineyard in Tuscany. Certainly, more than I could ever hope to drink myself."

Toby chuckles gruffly. "Desmond, you sly dog, you."

Desmond chuckles along with him and they share the most awkward fist bump that Harry has ever witnessed in his life. For the good of everyone, he hopes it's an inside joke.

He recalls Hatsuo speaking about their store owner, Giuseppe, away on vacation with his family in Sicily. He wonders how many cogs spin in the machine that will make this happen and how difficult it is for Desmond to call in personal favors and threats and bribes day in and day out.

"Des," Toby says a little more seriously, "it's always been a pleasure to do business with you."

"You as well, Toby." Desmond stands to shake both of their hands. "Thank you so much, Spencer, for taking time out of your day to be here. I hear they opened up those new slopes in Dubai."

"I wouldn't have missed this for the world." Spencer shakes his hand back. "And from what I hear, the indoor skiing is overrated."

Desmond plays off to be unphased. "If you ever have the impulse to try it out for yourself, I have a private charter that I would love to let you take a trip in."

Spencer ignores Desmond's comment with a smile and shakes Harry's hand. "They won't ever understand us."

Harry finds himself relating to that on so many levels. "Looks like we have our work cut out for us."

"Pleasure to finally meet you." Toby cuts in.

"You as well, Mr. Hough." Harry shakes his hand.

Desmond turns to leave, and Harry follows suit.

Harry's caught terribly off guard when they open the door and camera lights blast them from every side.

He instinctively flings an arm in front of his face, then remembers the sunglasses atop his head and slides them back on. The luminescence is instantly muted and Harry's grateful, again, for modern technology such as sunglasses.

Harry shuts the car door behind him and the shouting from the paparazzi is quieted once more. He rests his head against the seat and his sunglasses poke forward. He tears them off and drops them in his lap. Someone had knocked the cup holder from the middle console down in the process of getting in the car.

"Now what?" He asks Desmond, mundanely.

"Now we go back to the office." Desmond says like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"No, I mean- that was crazy." Harry points back to where they just were. "Is that how it always is? How long is this chain of people that we need to convince? Did Spencer know what was going to happen before coming? How much extortion have I been involved in up to this point? What else has been going on behind my back? And why the fuck is Louis such a fucking whore?"

He didn't realize he had been raising his voice until his last yell is juxtaposed promptly by the silence in the car.

Desmond looks to Harry with a poker face. "Always keep your Aces in the hole, Harry. Always."

Harry didn't realize he was mad until his laugh comes out as a scoff. "Fuck."

"Fuck!" He yells louder and stomps on the cup holder.

"This is my personal car, Harry." Desmond says with a hint of annoyance.

"Good." Harry snatches the sunglasses from his lap and shoves them back onto his face.

He presses his palm to his forehead. He can't let himself fall behind and feel out of control. He's perfectly capable of keeping up. He has until this point, and he can continue to do so. He'll rise above all the corruption and assholes. He'll be better than his dad.

He shakes his head to himself, then lets his head loll over to face Desmond.

Desmond looks at him curiously.

Harry lifts his glasses back onto his head. "I will never be the type of man you are."

Desmond gives Harry a soft smile back. "Good." 

~~~


End file.
